Soldiers of the Row by Anthony M Ortiz
by REwriter22
Summary: Saints Row 1's gangs have been run to the ground and rooted out of existence thanks to the 3rd Street Saints. However, they did not emerge victorious. Many of their brothers and sister in purple have lost their lives, including a loyal Saint with a nickname "Playa" who got blown up on a Yacht. The Lieutenants gather at their main base to discuss their future.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer

I do not own any of the original characters, locations, and certain plot points. All the credit goes to the video game companies, Volition and THQ.

Prologue

What happens now?

**_"What the fuck was that?!" _**One voice scolded the other.

**_ "It was the only way!" _**The second voice replied.

**_"I said talk; not set off a goddamn bomb!"_**

**_ "Relax Troy. The Saints are finished. Don't try to find me…"_**

A "unique" city like Stilwater is unlike any other city in the U.S. There are lots that can be said in a place full of gang violence, drug deals, and hearing a bomb go off under the city's main bridge. Stilwater has a tendency to choose its citizens; chooses who stays and who ends up in a body bag. There was a time dating to a few months prior to this particular explosion; around in the early summertime. Just like an army raiding a castle, the city needed liberating. Three, diverse gangs fought for territory in every street corner, every party spot. Many have bled for their leaders in their mission for hostile takeover.

These gang wars had been brewing since the time of the Carnales taking precedence over the drug business. Before the Vice Kings, the Westside Rollerz, and the 3rd Street Saints, the Carnales were the most feared gang in the city. Their colors sported red, and they showed their true colors when dealing with the opposition with bullets. The Vice Kings were next to rise up in the city. Starting out as a bunch wannabe bad asses in Sunnyvale, their leader Benjamin King stepped up and took their potential and strength to the Carnales. Their rivalry has been bloody for years.

When it came to the street racing circuit, that was where the real action was. It was boys in blue vs. _boyz _in blue. The Rollerz were sneaky bastards in their time. In between the rivalry of the former two gangs, the latter two found solace in areas that weren't taken over. Over the years, there was red, yellow, and blue walking the streets, instilling fear and ego tripping wherever they treaded. However, another gang crept from the storm drains of 3rd Street. That once small gang was the 3rd Street Saints. Their leader, Julius, saved a silent wolf known as "Playa" from nearly getting shot by a Vice King member. Since that time, the Saints have been cleaning up house up and down neighborhoods and businesses to put the hurt on the other gangs.

Like the status quo goes for a city like this: it chooses who stays and who dies. It's a simple way of life, perhaps too simple for any other city to understand. Stilwater was always in peril, being a combination of the Big Apple and City of Angels can cause a lot of stirs. It's only one kingdom that was trying to be had by everyone. Living the life of a gang banger would mean utter devotion to the family who took you in. Some deviated from that life because "family" can be too strong a word to keep to. For the Saints, you have a choice to drop your colors and walk out a free person. Julius was a reasonable type of leader, always trying to make peace because Stilwater is a big place.

After months of weeding out the non-peace keepers, things were turning around for the people of Stilwater. It was all because "Playa" and the Saints had put a stop to the gang violence. Playa didn't have a real name. Well, "street rat" would be one since he was nearly killed on a street corner during a gang dispute. "Silent Wolf" was his second name due to him not saying a word. He was one of those "actions speak louder than words" kind of individuals. Even Johnny Gat thought he was a psycho at one point because he knew his way around a rocket launcher. He loved every aspect of him. The Saints were slowly rebuilding decimated strongholds and putting businesses like "Friendly Fire" on their payroll. Then on one, brisk night on a yacht, an ugly set of events were set in motion that showed how karma was being the unreal ass kicker it was. Playa and a politician named Alderman Richard Hughes were having a private conversation for three and half minutes. These precious 180 seconds of Hughes berating him of how gangs were filth turned a negative into a positive in his campaign for clean streets.

Hughes was your regular clichéd politician. His words shot out from his silver tongue; lies to those who opened their ears and hope to those who wanted change. In about three seconds the conversation was cut short. Heart racing beeps from the bomb sent the yacht ablaze under the city bridge. Its remains sunk into the loneliness of the ocean. Back on the surface and into the busy, more upstanding parts of town, Channel 6's Anchorwoman, Jane Valderamma delivered the news event that devastated only a few on the Saints' behalf.

"_Breaking news! Earlier tonight, Stilwater's esteemed politician, Alderman Hughes was lounging on his yacht, enjoying his victory in becoming the next Mayor. A few witnesses say he was having a closed conversation with one of the prominent gang members from Saints Row. The yacht met its short lived voyage under the Stilwater Bridge, and so far the police have yet to find any survivors. It seems Mr. Hughes went from a stellar victory to ridding the streets of gang violence, to a sunken defeat by the end of a ticking time bomb. Along with the Alderman's passing, a Saint whom many came to know him as "Playa" was found charred to death in the boat's remains, and is currently being fished out of the water. It has not been confirmed whether he's alive or dead. Which begs the question: was Hughes a suicidal man, or were the Saints trying to kill two birds with one explosion? I am Jane Valderamma: Channel 6 News."_

Some of the city's more questionable citizens such as hobos and sugar daddy rednecks lent a moment of silence to the fallen Saint. Above all the Saint members, he was the one who had the most involvement, the most loyalty to his brothers and sisters in eliminating the Carnales, Vice Kings, and the Westside Rollerz. He was like a second gun toting maniac like Johnny Gat; one of the Saints' Lieutenants. They worked together the most in putting the hurt on the Vice Kings and forcing their leader to leave the country as a new man.

To most, Playa was a hero. No more girls were getting kidnapped; they were keeping drugs away from adolescent children, keeping their neighborhoods safe. Basically, they were doing about 85% of the work the Police never get done. Around 5:30 in the morning, Johnny was tossing and turning when suddenly his phone began buzzing like crazy on the floor next to his bed. He slept through two of the phone's buzzers, but the more it went off the more he got agitated. Groveling under the sheets, he asked his girlfriend, Aisha, to pick up the phone. She was nowhere to be found, and apart from being disabled by a shotgun blast to the leg, he tumbled off to the side and answered the number.

"Eesh, this better be you in the bathroom." Johnny said in a cranky tone.

"_Johnny, its Dex. Some shit went down with Playa and that Hughes guy."_

"Seriously; he killed the Alderman? Good on him; I would've waited after having my afternoon target practice to put a bullet in that prick's eye."

"_It's more complicated than that. Come down to the Church. We'll explain everything there."_

"Fuck that, Johnny replied, I'll see y'all at noon if I ever get any sleep."

"_Julius is gone, man! Playa just got blown to hell! The boat Hughes was on blew up an hour ago. It's all over the news now." _Dex continued before he heard a phone dropped on the floor. _"Johnny, are you there?!"_

At that point, Dex was feeling hot under the collar. Johnny and Playa were thick as gun slinging thieves, and he usually doesn't take one of his closest homies getting blown up so well. Dex hung up the phone and told the other Lieutenants Gat was coming. Aisha was there along with Troy, Armando, and his younger brother Carlos. They all sat at the meeting table in the old Church at the Row. This was where Julius used to make the decisions in what to do.

Armando, Lieutenant and founder of the sub gang charter, the Guardian Angels, asked out of curiosity what Johnny was planning to do when he got to the Church. Dex explained it like the Hiroshima A-bomb; once it reaches a target it'll go all nuclear without any sense of restraint. Armando has been out of the Stilwater gang for some time due to a fall out he had with Julius awhile back. He has heard stories about the other gangs getting wiped out, and had little involvement in handling them himself. Especially the Carnales; that was a whole other tale he didn't want to get into. While they waited for Johnny, they discussed at length about their gang's future.

"It's good you're here, _hermano_. Times like these, we need another voice of reason to balance the crew." Dex said.

"I came as soon as I heard. With the other gangs gone, my crew and I can come up for air." Armando replied. "If you guys want us back that is."

"Stilwater is ours for the time being. There are still a lot of damaged neighborhoods and strongholds that need fixing. As you guys know, Playa wasn't always discreet. He and Johnny were like Butch and Sundance in many of their missions together."

"So, when he barges through those doors, I run for my life right?" Troy asked. "We've seen him pissed off before, but that's nothing compared to what he's feeling right now."

"The way I see it, he has two ways to blow off steam: go to a strip club or blow shit up somewhere." Aisha pointed out. "C'mon Dex, how'd you think he was going to react when you told him? I'd say we let him burn off some steam and maybe he'll be calm enough to talk about this."

"Or he breaks in here with a chain gun and blows us all to kingdom come." Troy replied as everyone looked at him funny, especially Aisha. "Too soon?"

"It's too bad about the strip club being left out." Carlos said in the background.

Carlos was watching TV when he called the others over for another breaking news story. Johnny was blowing off steam alright, and it wasn't getting pussy at some cheap strip joint in some part of town. Blind rage guided him to where the boat explosion took place and went to the Stilwater Bridge to cause a scene. He was threatening reporters and cops for answers Jane said. Dex put his head down and couldn't believe what was happening.

"You got to be shitting me." Dex shouted!

"Jesus Johnny." Aisha said to herself.

"Let's get him out of there." Armando said before talking to his brother. "Bro, stay here until we get back."

"You got it." Carlos agreed.

Everyone got in their vehicles and hauled ass to the aftermath of what seemed to be from a distance, a huge riot where cops were getting beaten up and thrown all over the place. The paramedics managed to get two charred bodies out of the water and onto a stretcher. Armando and Dex got out and ran to get Johnny away from the police, but that was easier said than done. Not because Johnny gained the upper hand, his disabled leg prevented him from doing any further damage than he wanted to. In the midst of all the screaming and cops containing the situation, Troy got a good look at one of the bodies being hauled away onto a Paramedic truck. It had dark pieces of purple on him so it was confirmed he was on that boat.

Armando managed to break through to get Johnny on his feet, and boy was the word "mad" the understatement for this Saint. His face was beating red, bulging eyes while waving an NR4 glock, firing off two shots in the air. He was a complete mess. Dex tried his best to calm down the crowd as Armando covertly got Gat away from the crowd. He was cursing like a wild banshee, blaming Hughes for committing suicide and taking one of his closest homies with him. "You fat, hair receding, two faced bastard!" he said. Troy and Aisha waited to take him off Armando's hands while Dex followed and told them they needed to make themselves scarce for the day.

Aisha took him home while the others drove back to their own homes. As they were driving back, Armando was quite convinced Johnny hadn't changed at all since he left the Saints. Taking some back road, Aisha was both worried and scared at the same time, looking at Johnny every once in a while to see how he was holding up. She gave him plenty to drink so he could pass out until later in the day.

It became a devastating time for the 3rd Street Saints. Dex was scared about them falling apart, and with Julius missing there was nobody to run the crew. It became the one morning everybody got drunk in order to put the night behind them. The next day, Troy, Armando, Carlos, and Dex reconvened at the Church. Everyone except Carlos was wobbling and toppling over stuff. Dex on the other hand, sat at the meeting table to figure out what really was the future for the Saints. Carlos came in with coffee to even out the jaded flow. He was then called over for a level headed discussion.

"I saw you guys on TV." Carlos said. "Glad I'm not on his bad side."

"Everybody grieves their own way, little man." He replied taking a coffee. "I just hope Aisha got him home alright."

"What a fucked up night." Troy shouted coming into the Church! "You know Dex I'm curious, how does Aisha always put up with his shit?"

"Eesh is the strongest out of all of us. I'm grateful she can still put up with his thick headedness."

"So how is this going to play out?" Carlos asked. "I see the Row's gotten a little thin since you guys took out the other gangs."

"Kid has a point." Troy brought up. "With Julius out of the game, we need someone in charge to make the Row whole again."

"I say we recruit more members." Dex suggested. "I know people 'round the industrial area of the city just looking for a chance to join up."

"Sorry, Armando said as he struggled to sit in his seat, couldn't sleep well last night."

"That's because you slept on one of the church benches, bro." Carlos reminded him.

"Don't rub it in, huh? I overheard you saying we should recruit new members. I say we should. Your gangs may be gone, but new ones might roll in anytime soon." Armando said. "We need to prepare for this."

Everyone at the table pretty much agreed for new Saints to come in and defend Stilwater. There were plenty of ways for people to get noticed by the Saints: cause robberies, win street races, assist in gun battles, and give positive feedback on how much the Saints have helped people to turn the media in the right direction, along with other options. Troy chimed in and suggested about building safe houses in the outskirts of the city. After the scene Gat caused the police would have no choice but to step in and excavate the Church along with other locations the Saints frequent in. The safe houses would have to be diverse to serve each specific skill set they required. They wouldn't have any missions for the recruits yet other than clean up damaged strongholds and anticipate the Lieutenants' needs.

There were still two more votes to be made for this idea to go through its' hoops. Dex had texted Aisha to see how she was holding up from the night before. Her phone buzzed once; Gat didn't budge an inch in bed. His body ached everywhere from all the anger and excitement. Aisha walked out of the bathroom and saw the text about the Lieutenants reconvening and discussing the future. She texted back confirming she got the message while walking over to see how Johnny was doing.

He was a mess to say the least. Along with a busted leg, he had bruises all over where the cops beat on him. Just when she was about to get his attention, out of nowhere he expressed how much he loved her. He said she was the only one who understood him; the only one who can put him in his place and how he would feel if he lost her. Well, after a trail of bodies for anyone who got in his way would justify avenging her demise, but he would feel like shit after the fact. She smiled and was glad he was acting like his usual self. She then said Dex and the others were at the Church, waiting for them to add input in expanding the Saints gang.

"I could really use a stiff drink and a punching bag." He said while being helped out of bed. "Then we'll get going."

"No time for drinking, Johnny. Now come on, take a shower so we can leave. I'll call Dex back so he doesn't worry."

"Since when did that ass hole ever gave a shit about me?" He asked getting out of bed.

"Don't be a baby. Hurry up!"

"Love ya, Eesh; mean it." He replied before going to the bathroom.

After a couple hours waiting for Johnny and Aisha, Troy grew restless. He kept complaining they were taking their sweet time getting to the Church and chime in on the plan. Suddenly, he got slapped upside the head by Johnny walking in with Aisha with a whole new outlook. For the others, that was either very good or bad considering how he blacked out at the crime scene. Armando brought them up to speed on their plan.

Over the course of several months in eliminating the three main gangs in the city, they have lost over fifty-six Saints plus affiliates while another good twenty-one of them were taken to jail; courtesy of the Carnales. Dex said he knew of a freelance drug mule that could take care of the prison break, and procuring boats for them to escape the island the prison was based on. As for the expended Saints who have gone and bled purple for the good of the Row, it was time to recruit new blood and bring their name back in full once more. Before, Dex mentioned about a couple of contract workers wanting to be on the Saints' payroll.

He knew a total of forty solid workers who owed him a few favors. That took care of the construction of the safe houses, but there was still the issue in the geography where they were going to be placed. Most of the city's outskirts were occupied by hills people, trailer parks, and some wild animals leading into the ocean bay. Gat took a look at the map and pointed out the perfect place to run his safe house. He chose the Marina just west of its' exact location; lots of open space to canonize young punks in.

Each Lieutenant was going to split up into individual safe houses based on their skills: Gat had the muscle, Aisha had the vocals and wits, Dex was a man with a plan; a mission tactics expert, Armando had the teachings of what it means to be a Saint, and Troy had something else planned that wasn't going to involve recruiting. Everyone in the Church took concern over his decision to not be a part of the plan, but instead arrange a meet with the drug mule and take a trip to liberate the locked up members. So far, the plan was falling into place. The question on everyone's minds though, was how to put the word out. It couldn't be just random strangers picked up off the street anymore. These Saints in particular were going to have to have skill; _real_ skill if they were going to survive longer. Since each house was going to have a diverse group, it was going to take time to find the right recruits.

"We should make fliers and post them all over the city. People will line up for events like this," Aisha said. "For me, I'll do some underground franchising. Maybe the people will start to think of us in a more positive light."

"I'm down for that babe, Johnny said, you'll shit the pants of every networking nerd when they find out you're back from the dead."

"It has to be discreet though." Dex reminded her. "Benjamin King may have left the country, but a lot of your fans will be shocked and pissed to find out the media had lied to them."

"The truth will come out, and I know just how to do that." Aisha said.

"I have a layout for where the drug mule usually makes his rounds. He should be in town this afternoon." Troy said.

"One of my guys has a contact in the commercial business. We can talk brass tax in getting our faces on a Freckle Bitches commercial. Anything to prove we're not a bunch of psychopaths." Armando explained as Gat looked at him. "Hey, I'm sorry you had to see what you saw, but that shit you pulled on TV isn't going to be good for us."

Things became settled from here on in. Everyone had their jobs and it was going to be a lengthy process to find the most unique and qualified Saint Recruits. Dex told Gat and Aisha to take whatever side roads they could to find the Carnales mansion and set up shop. Troy had some business to take care of elsewhere before meeting the mule later that afternoon. Eventually, it was only Armando, Carlos, and Dex sitting at the table.

Armando felt like having a smoke and wanted Dex to join him out behind the Church. He gave Carlos some money for breakfast and said he'll meet him later. It was a sunny and tense day out in Stilwater, filled with questions about Gat's mental stability over the loss of Playa as well as Armando's standing with the gang. They talked things over; Armando was cool with them. He asked about Julius; not for his well-being, but why did he disappear after all that's happened.

Dex thought about going to the station himself to see if he could speak to Julius. He didn't know yet. As to Armando's standing with the Saints in the present tense, he was always good in Dex's book. He labeled him as the second voice of reason because for a time Armando settled a lot of disputes without ever picking up a gun. He was afraid of guns to a degree; another trace of his past that led Julius to kicking him out in the first place.

"I never gave my condolences; heard he had quite a reputation here." Armando said lighting up his cigarette.

"It's fucked up." Dex replied letting out a smoke. "Hughes always had it in for gangs. We struggling to survive and he shits on us at every chance he gets. But thanks."

"I've seen his wife on TV. She's got a stripper pole up her ass my god."

"Maybe Hughes had erectile dysfunction. Don't know, don't fucking care. Hey, about your brother, you think he's qualified to be a Saint?"

"That's…not an easy question. Carlos is always eager; he's much to learn about how the gang operates. But yeah, he's capable. He's loyal if that's what you're worried about."

"No doubt about that, man. Despite Playa's loyalty when he helped us take out the Vice Kings and the Rollerz, he was unstable. Maybe I'm jumping the gun, but a guy with hardly a word to say and a lot of influence from Gat. I mean, you saw what he was like earlier today. That's not a pissed off Johnny. I don't even know what the fuck that was."

"If I were him losing a close friend, I'd be pissed too." Armando replied blowing out smoke. "It's never easy someone _close_ to you is gone forever."

"Maybe it's for the best. He started out as a street corner rat, died a Saint at the end. We need more guys like us. We need a future here."

Something Dex said caught him off guard. He was taken aback when he basically wished death on another Saint, especially a loyal one. He called him out on that.

"You'd wish death on a brother?" He asked throwing away his cigarette. "That isn't like you, Dex."

"Some things change, man." Dex said before flicking his cigarette. "Look at us now. Sooner or later, we got to start looking out for ourselves."

Just before Dex went inside, Armando asked him one more thing. The falling out he had with Julius was a unanimous decision made by both him and Dex. At this point in time, Dex was willing to let bygones be bygones, but back then after many of the first members of the Saints were killed by the Carnales, there was still a mystery yet to be solved. Armando had a girl putting some pressure on the leaders, Hector and Angelo. There was a conspiracy behind a slip-up she made, and Dex being with her when it was all going down.

He knew it was ancient history, but if he knew anything how she slipped up he wanted to know about it; bring closure to the matter. Dex simply told him to let it go and stop worrying about "beaten angels" who had fallen from grace. He continued going inside leaving Armando with a cold shiver running down his left shoulder blade. The weird thing was, outside felt like summer. For the time being, he kept to the plan with a sense of uncertainty in his heart. He couldn't describe it really, and he didn't want to throw old accusations where it probably didn't belong, but he had the feeling Dex changed. It was not for the better he thought. He headed to an old diner down the street to catch up with Carlos.

10


	2. Chapter 1: Meet the Zig-zag

Chapter 1

Meet the Zig-zag

Driving through neighborhood around the city, people would have the sense to be concern with the amount of damage the Saints have caused in wiping out the other gangs. But not in Troy's eyes. On his way to the Pier, he passed through a ghetto neighborhood where kids were playing on the sidewalk, playing basketball and trading cards. He knew the neighborhood quite well. As a rookie cop, he answered a dispatch call about a Pimp threatening to set four houses on fire if his girls didn't come out of hiding.

Barry the "lead pole" Moreau his name was; he controlled the territory. Kids were afraid of him; their parents would stay indoors to avoid getting a bullet in their heads. His middle name was "lead pole" because on his rap sheet, Barry was an abused victim of molestation by his uncle. If he didn't do certain things the way his uncle demanded him to, he would get beaten by a lead pole taken from his basement furnace. He was small time compared to other pimps around Stilwater, but crazier than most of them flipping the card on the street.

It was around midnight he got the dispatch; two of the four houses were already burnt to the ground. Troy went in without backup and with only a standard issue gun to defend him-self. He wasn't the "get down and dirty" type of cop though it was mandatory for them to throw punches if need be. Troy was compassionate; he thought he could talk Barry down and come alone quietly. By the time he got to the neighborhood, six victims were kneeling with hands tied behind their backs.

Swat teams arrived as well, ready to open fire if Barry didn't stop what he was about to do. Each victim was a parent, sharing similar descriptions to none other than his own uncle. Barry threw swear words and used the hot end of the lead pole as he sent it into one of the parent's backs. The scream was unbearable. If it were under other circumstances like their kids burning down in the last two homes, Troy's contingency would've been to subdue him and have the Swat teams deal with the situation.

He made his case to Barry, talking him down, bringing up his childhood with his uncle. In his eyes, the parents weren't victims. He looked at the children tied against a big tree; all five of them together watching. They were all abused the same way he was: smacked around, forced to do slave labor, fulfill a sexual desire. If they didn't obey Barry said they would be beaten with a blunt object.

Troy's compassion to help him seek counseling only got him half-way; then he showed his scars from his father. He didn't want Troy to be a cop; he didn't want his own son to be anything. At that point in his life, it was either be on the wanted poster, or be the Samaritan who brought the bounty in for the reward. It was the first time in Barry's life he ever saw a decent cop. After his eyes were cleared of the rage he turned around, seeing the embers of the devil's work.

In the end, he was the only one with hands tied behind his back. Barry was sentenced to sixteen years in prison for arson and assault; any prisoner would do anything not to be put in jail that long. When booking was done later that night, cops were escorting him to his jail and he gave Troy a nod as a "thank you" gesture for seeing the error of his ways. It was one of many memories he would never forget as a regular cop. Living undercover with the Saints was a completely different story.

At first he stuck out like a sore, purple thumb. He would've been dead in a week if Julius hadn't stepped in. At the time, he was unlike any gang leader he'd met and taken down. Like Troy, he was compassionate. Tougher in the lifestyle that hardened him, but he saw the good in Julius; even began to respect him for what he was. In the present time, he was barely seeing the line between cop and fugitive.

The Stilwater PD was starting to notice he was getting too comfortable with the Saints. Unknown to him, there was another in the department of justice more than willing to take over his investigation in putting every single Saint in either jail or in the ground at a moment's notice. This guy in particular has a rigid history with Troy. By the time he got to the Pier around 1:30 in the afternoon, all he had to do was wait for the drug mule to show up, but then history re-emerged with all the rigidness following it. Another undercover cop walked by him and stood next to him having an ice cream cone.

"Pretty damn fine work, Bradshaw." The slick cop said licking his ice cream.

"You heard huh?" Troy asked him.

"Personally, I would've put the Saints leader on that boat instead of that silent sociopath. Every member would've dropped their flags by now."

"Then you wouldn't get the satisfaction in taking them to prison. Luckily, this isn't your investigation."

"How long have you been on this case; 19, 22 months? At every turn, you let them take three large investments; investments that would've made us richer than the goddamn Mayor. Benjamin King left the country. Hector and Angelo of the Carnales are in body bags with the whore Luz and the fat, foreign guy Manuel nowhere to be found. Not to mention, we can't use the cars from the Rollerz anymore because of all the gunfire and charred body parts."

"There a reason why you're badgering me, Camden." Troy asked?

"What's the Row planning, Bradshaw? All the other gangs are dispersed. What's left to do?"

"They're going to rebuild. Jason, they're just looking to start fresh. It's more than likely the Saints will lay low until things settle on that boat incident. If anything, my job's almost done. Julius is in jail, and his right hand is in a body bag; nothing more to worry about."

"There's nothing to worry about huh?" Jason asked. "Johnny Gat comes to mind."

"What of him?"

"Oh slim the 'tude my boy in blue. You think I wasn't there when you and the other Lieutenants were hauling his ass away from the boat wreckage? If you had only prevented Dex and that other Saint from intervening, we wouldn't be having this conversation. The entire precinct is worried about you, Bradshaw. The Chief is considering in suspending you, and putting me in charge of this investigation."

"Unbelievable. It's all about dick size to you isn't it, Jason? I was put in charge because I know how to deal with gangs and drug dealers. You grew up in Sunnyvale; makes you more of a pussy than me."

Jason went face to face with him as he lent a final warning if Troy didn't shape up.

"Tearing down 3rd Street is the key to our early retirements. They were small time once, but shit escalated in ways I can't comprehend."

"I was there." Troy replied.

"Yeah…you were. The Chief is willing to extend your investigation an extra month. Kill off Johnny Gat; just one bullet. That'll be the day the Row falls apart. See you around." Jason concluded before walking away.

He and Jason had been at odds since Troy went undercover for the Saints. Jealousy maybe; yet in Jason's case his reasons went a little deeper. Twenty-minutes later he saw the drug mule walk by on the boardwalk. Troy knew the procedure in getting his attention: he would have to walk at the same speed alongside him, and depending on if you're part of a gang or a street dealer, you would just have to whisper the job that required his expertise. Mel "zig-zag" Perry his name was. He grew up in Boston and ran away to be a self-taught parkour runner/mobile drug mule. He was the kind of contact many suppliers call to make deliveries without the cops getting a whiff of the product being sent; except being on the Colombian's payroll he was a reliable source.

He never stayed in one place, and there is no telling when he'll be in town the next time around. The other half of Troy's job at the precinct was to study how a parkour runner makes his mark, and cross reference them to Mel. After the job is described in brief, yet direct detail, Mel asks for the location and what his fee would be after the job is done. Since it was mid-afternoon, both Troy and Mel had to wait to get past a large crowd of people before finding a bench to sit and discuss further parameters of the job. As soon as the coast was clear, it was faze one to releasing the Saints from prison.

"Two minutes, the mule said not making eye contact, any more the people will start flying back."

"Got a job; some Saints of ours got locked up in prison, courtesy of the Carnales. I'm looking to break them out," Troy explained.

"How many is some; minute and forty seconds."

"Twenty-one," Troy replied. "I'm going to need about seven getaway boats and a hidden passage into the place. I know where it is, but security cameras there don't miss a thing."

"Twenty-one's a crowd; a rioting crowd. Might provide the advantage you need; a minute and thirty seconds."

"Heard you got someone working on the inside? I got my sources. This job's gotta be done at night and I'm going with you."

"Out of the question; I'll go on my own. But it can't be tonight," the mule said.

"You're going to need backup," Troy expressed.

"Drug muling's a state-trotting business, Bradshaw. I don't stay in one place; fifty-eight seconds."

"Fine, name your price and you can go," Troy said.

"Eight grand; I'll cover the boats. I will need the payment ready when I call you. Leave the money in crushed tin foil under the cigarette jar. Thirty seconds."

"Done," Troy said as both got up from the bench.

"Troy, he asked as he turned to him, your other side is showing. Some purple angels might take offense to that. Watch your back."

A jogger suddenly shoved Troy away and distorted his focus. After he flipped the runner off, he turned around and the mule was gone. At first he thought it was creepy, but kind of cool at the same time. His part was set; he called Dex to update him on his progress. The next item on his agenda was acquiring the eight grand for the job to go down, as well as taking a secret excursion to the prison to let the other Saints know they were going to break out soon.

Dex told him Ben King left an open account of $500,000 at one of their owned banks as a token of their services in taking care of his crew. He told him to withdraw every cent of it and take what was left to a construction site he was at as a down payment on the safe houses. Troy hung up. On his way to his car, he kept having a vibe someone was watching him. He checked his six and all 360 degrees and didn't notice any stalkers around; a couple of streaking whine-o's up and about but everything seemed normal. He got in his car and went to the bank.

It's been three and a half months since the Carnales were taken care of. They were standing on their last legs with their lieutenant, Angelo fleeing the country. His girl Luz was late at the time, but it didn't matter due to the emergency landing Playa and Dex caused at the airport. All that was left of them was their fancy, shot up mansion and a hand full of strongholds for the Saints to rebuild. Gat and Aisha took longer than expected because she had to stop by an underground Salon and get her a whole new look. She didn't want to expose herself at a local stylist because according to the rest of the world, she was still a poor soul who got blown up at her record label.

On their way to the mansion, Aisha kept belly aching how Johnny's guy cut her hair too short. He expressed how much it was necessary for her to get it done. He thought it was funny at first with the little chuckles he made while driving, but she accepted the fact and kept to the plan in staying incognito until the Saints get back on their feet. Mentally, she was gathering ideas for her underground franchising plan; opening up her own studio in the mansion came to mind. It was to be portrayed as a scavenger hunt of sorts that if those willing find the mansion, they'd find her. She had a website for fans to send her mail and stuff; Gat supported her all the way. He had no idea what kind of technology the Carnales had; probably middle-aged Spaniard shit he said. As they pulled up to the drive way, in spite of the mansion being shot up to hell it was still homey.

"You know Johnny, if I ever went all the way to the top I would settle for a place like this," Aisha said as they were walking to the front door.

"What; a ten bathroom establishment and an Irish maid to cook and clean for us? Not my forte."

"That's not what I meant. This is a godsend if you think about it. We deserve a house like this, or somewhere that doesn't look like an old Church."

"The fuck's going on here," Johnny asked seeing something suspicious?

On the side of the house revealed the back end of a car. It was a variant of a top down Eiswolf four-seater. It had red designs on both sides with black leather seats and rims with the initials L.A. Aisha got a good look at the car and made the distinction it wasn't made in Los Angeles. Gat saw the car as a piss poor attempt to stay hidden, but also as a threat. There were still members out there wearing red so both got out their NR4's and went inside the house.

She placed her palm against her head after he kicked the door down instead of checking to see if it was open. As they entered inside the main foyer, Gat gave credit to Dex and Playa for doing a number on the place while he was dealing with his leg. He would've loved a joyride of blood spatters he said. Then a thump was heard upstairs; Aisha heard a curse word as well from a female voice. They slowly went upstairs. For someone who was trying to be discreet in a house that wasn't theirs they were doing a crappy job at staying quiet. The search led them to a bedroom door; Johnny counted to three then opened the door without hesitation to face a Carnales deserter. All he got was a scared, Latina woman scared for her life. However, she wasn't as scared this time. It was as if it wasn't the first time she was held at gun point.

"You're the Saints right," she asked in a nervous tone with her hands up? "You're the ones who murdered my Angelo in cold blood."

"It's what we do lady," Gat said.

"What you doing back here? Dex said you left," Aisha asked.

"You know this bitch?"

Aisha showed herself to who she prefers the woman as "the senorita." Dex told her about Luz Avalos; Angelo's girlfriend who always found herself between a rock and hard place when it came to Carnales business. Luz couldn't believe she was seeing Aisha in the flesh, not after the incident at Kingdom Come Records. She was one of her biggest fans next to Marc Anthony and Cristian Castro.

"Hold up I'm confused. Dex and my man finished off the Carnales, but left their girl in the wind?"

"Guess your man took pity on me. Believe it or not, we had a common taste in seasonal shoe fashions," Luz said.

"The fuck," Gat asked?

"Are those cherry red Louis Voutons with the platinum straps," Aisha asked admiring her shoes?

"Custom made from Colombia," she showed her. "Manuel had them made special."

"Finally something I understand," Gat replied out of relief. "He's the liaison for the Colombians right? I remember Julius made an alliance with him."

"He's waiting for me at the airport. We're going to Argentina for vacation. I misplaced a necklace of mine last time. That's why I'm here."

Gat asked her if they were to find the necklace would she leave. Aisha helped her look for it while Gat couldn't believe how two strangers became girlfriends in an instant. He went downstairs into the kitchen for a beer. He then found himself lurking into other hallways of the mansion. A big pool was in the backyard, flat screen luckily untouched by gunfire, and the office of Hector Lopez.

As he entered inside he admired the craftsmanship and the feel of being the boss from home really brought things into a positive light for him. The only thing he hated was all the red and pictures of Hector and Angelo. But the plot thickened which brought a smile to his face. Looking through the desk drawers, there were three keys of cocaine, passports to Puerto Rico and the Caribbean, two used tickets for an Aisha concert. He wouldn't show it to Aisha, but it warmed his heart knowing she was still alive and willing to help the Saints back on track. Last thing he found was the necklace Luz was looking for…on top of six grand that was ripe for the taking. He had a great feeling he was going to like the mansion; he could almost call it home. That moment of victory led to almost being startled by an old yet, well composed gentlemen wearing an expensive suit.

"Rich history soars all over this office. Rodrigo, the founding leader of the Carnales and I made lots of deals in here, including closed planning in how to deal with your gang."

"You come to finish the fucking job, old man," Johnny asked?

"With all due respect Mr. Gat, with your leg still out of commission I doubt you'll be able to, what's the phrase? "Kick my ass and curb stomp my dick into mush"? I am not here to cause trouble."

"Unless you're Manuel," he said before getting cut off.

"Indeed. Your involvement killing Hector and Angelo has shown me the Saints know how to handle business the right way. Hence the reason why I made a deal with your leader Julius to have the Colombians' backing in your city."

"Julius is in jail; don't know when he's getting out. Personally, I don't give a fuck. All I care is rebuilding the Saints and Stilwater."

"Which I'm sure you will. Mind if I sit," Manuel asked?

Gat put his gun away and allowed Manuel to have a sit down for few minutes until he waited for Luz to come downstairs. While they waited, Manuel expressed his condolences after hearing what happened to one of their own blowing up on that boat under the Stilwater Bridge. He thought there were too many white, hair receding bastards running for office; which strangely enough that's what Gat said at one point. Manuel didn't beat around the bush when he put the past behind him almost immediately, and talked about a job a guy like Johnny can do. The Colombians were having some problems with some lazy yet big time suppliers in another city.

The one rule Manuel learned in the drug business is to never savor your own supply. Spring Break just passed recently in Steelport; suppliers of both known and underground were sharing the wealth so-to-speak. Manuel wanted him to go to Steelport and cause some havoc and some positive reinforcement among the suppliers to get their asses back in line, and make some money. Before he discussed the reward terms, Gat laid down the line and said he wasn't a "jump how high?" type of gang banger. If he was going to take a job from someone who was associated with a gang that tried to ruin the Saints, he was going to do it alone. He's never been to Steelport before, but that wasn't going to stop him getting directions.

Manuel then told him it was going to be a one man job anyway for someone of Gat's talents. He was feeling generous in the reward department; especially so since he heard Luz's laugh upstairs along with Aisha. If that meant any effort he could in his power to rebuild the Saints' empire he would do so. However, Gat made it clear it wasn't an empire he was going for. Benjmain King turned his Vice Kings gangs into a multimedia empire and it didn't end so well for them; his crew at least. What he wanted was for the Saints to represent they were there for the people of Stilwater; also to investigate further into the Alderman's death. He wanted to settle the score in who was responsible for the Playa's death so he could deal it out the only way he knew how.

"That's not unreasonable," Manuel said. "I will make some calls to arrange a flight for you to Steelport. You'll get a hit list on your phone on the suppliers, and I know someone in the Mayor's employ who can give me information on Hughes."

"Sounds good," Gat replied.

Both shook hands and not a moment too soon, Luz and Aisha greeted Manuel in the boss's old office. That was when he jumped when he saw Aisha under the impression she was killed. There was a lot of that going around she told him; it was all going to change soon once the Row was resurrected. Gat took out the necklace and Luz jumped for joy when it was finally in her possession. She thanked him and said their goodbyes when leaving the mansion.

"She's not so bad once you get to know her," Aisha said.

"Did she talk about anything besides shoes," Gat said feeling a headache coming on?

"Good point, she replied with her head down, but it looks like Manuel's treating her well. I'm going to see if there's a basement in this place."

"Cool, I'm going to Freckle Bitches. You want anything?"

Right then, she brought up the fact of him exposing himself in some parts of the city. After his outburst at the yacht remains, the cops have been on the street more often than ever before. She was nervous for him; anger expressed the way he did was unlike the violent bad-ass she came to know and love. However at the same time she knew the reason behind it. As she was walking to the door, she brought up how much she missed Playa too.

"Eesh, he said putting his hands on her shoulders, I'm fine. This morning wasn't my best time. I was tired, pissed. I lost a bona fide bad ass of a friend."

"We all miss him too. Not a day goes by I'm not thankful for when he saved my sister from those Vice King ass holes. Just…keep the mayhem to a minimum alright? At least until we get back to basics."

"You've never given up on me," Gat smiled.

"Not in a million years," she replied before they kissed.

When the wind is in your hair, the freedom you get when you're moving seamlessly through the unpleasant parts of your day, you feel like anything was possible. In Stilwater, the air may be foul at times, but constantly moving along the rooftops and jumping over dumpsters in alleyways gives an invigorating feeling in your body. The drug mule fancies these qualities as a self-taught parkour runner. Throughout the latter course of his life, he ran and dealt through L.A., New York, Detroit, Michigan, even opened a pot house for a time in Houston, Texas. He firmly believed in living in the moment; if it's too good to be true, keep on the move.

He kept ties to dealers in Chinatown and performed one drug run when the Carnales were in business. Out of all the places he traveled to and did his thing in, Stilwater had this way of drawing him back. He couldn't comprehend it; the city had uniqueness to it and at times felt like he belonged. Sitting on a rooftop, he was on a break eating a sandwich and looking in his playbook at the locations and people to make deliveries for. After looking at his long line of impatient clients, he closed the book for a second and looked at a picture he took while taking in the sights at Steelport.

It was Spring Break at the time. Every day was filled with barbecues and arcades filled with college kids, while at night it led to smoking all the elements, having sex with the most questionable types, and seeing that one person that could take the breath away from a human with one stare. His heart skipped a beat when he kept a picture of a hippie, soulful girl having a good time among male strangers. It was the one Spring Break he had no recollection from. The one time he got high on his own product and joined in; even some of the cops had their blue shirts hanging over their pants. He could never bring himself to talk to her; it was one of the reasons he stuck around Stilwater longer than any other city.

At first, he wanted to go the friend route, but friends come and go for him and he could never really take rejection well. Personal feelings were put aside when he got a text from a pig squealing handler of trailer park prostitutes. He could tell it was him by the short hand sentences. He made his way down the building. When he opened the back door into the alley a pale, homeless guy had his left fist up like he was knocking and collapsed on the ground. He was startled the instant it happened, trying to run away when the guy grabbed the mule's left ankle and didn't let go.

He begged for help, begging for a doctor mostly. Mel turned him over and an arrow was sticking out of his chest plate. A part of him wanted to help the homeless man, but something about him didn't add up. His clients being the impatient types, he had no choice except to run away from the situation. There were no witnesses around and his wound didn't look fatal; hence his suspicion. He hightailed it the rest of the way so he wouldn't be late. Suddenly, a trash can fell in front of him, causing him trip over. He looked behind him and saw the trash can had an arrow in it, with the shooter walking out of the alley's shadows.

"Damn, almost got you," the homeless guy said pulling the arrow out of the trash can. "Hello Melbourne…"

The Stilwater Police Department was a busy environment when dealing with criminals who make blubbering claims they didn't do anything wrong, blamed it on the drugs or daddy issues that type of thing. Police Chief James Floyd has been on the phone with the Mayor all day about getting permission from the city to go after the 3rd Street Saints due to the outburst they caused at Hughes' watery grave. Around the clock phone calls with both the Mayor and the wife of the Alderman were taking years off his life. With all the stress, he felt he was going to check in at a nursing home at this rate. Troy came inside the frenzied precinct to have a chat with James when another woman was already in the office with him, imploring news updates she was going to share with the people of the city. It was a losing battle when the wife of the Alderman was screaming at him over the phone and Jane Valderamma trying to get his attention.

"We are pooling all our resources, ma'am," James kept assuring the wife. "When we determine the Saints' involvement, you will be the first to know."

"Commissioner, Stilwater needs assurance the Saints won't be put under the knife without some anesthesia," Jane shouted!

"What," he asked?!

"Sorry, news jargon. Sir, the Saints have done a great deal of service in putting the Carnales, Vice Kings, and the Rollerz out of the game. We should be helping them not labeling them as "enemies of the state".

"Ms. Valderamma, you're hogging the spotlight from my undercover golden boy behind you," he said with Jane turning around. "Give us minute, no, fifteen minutes to touch base. I'll call you back in once my brain stops trying to jump out of my head."

Jane took her stuff and walked out of the office. She told Troy the people of Stilwater needs answers behind the boat explosion. Troy slammed the door and locked it. James thanked him and told him to have a seat.

"Damn press," he said rubbing his head.

"Sounds like you're keeping stability here," Troy said.

"Heh, stability means putting foot-to-ass on those criminals in the city, and less noise around here," he replied looking through his drawer for migraine medication. "Ah shit."

"Can't find your pills again?"

"Look in that filing cabinet," James said pointing to it. "I keep forgetting to put them in my desk."

After taking two pills along with some cognac, it gave the chief a few minutes for his brain to calm down and focus on what was really important at that moment.

"Your investigation is at risk, Troy. What did you tell Julius that led him to blowing up the Alderman?"

"I didn't intend for him to do that. He was scared of his crew's future, or maybe he didn't care. I told him to talk to his number two, get him to drop his flags and walk away a free man. I still don't know why."

"Do the other lieutenants know?"

"They know he's in jail. All they're worried about is rebuilding their reputation; expand past the Row by recruiting new members into their ranks."

"The Mayor's been chomping at the bit to put these guys away after rescinding his earlier offer for pardons for every Saint. Then I get Ms. Nosey for News out there telling me to look past the Alderman's death and focus on the big picture. I got to tell you, the "Commissioner" in me would want nothing more than to expel the color purple off the city streets. The realist in me says vigilantes are necessary for a city like ours. The three other gangs have been nothing but trouble, especially the Rollerz and their fucking street races."

"What do you want to do," Troy asked?

"You got free time on your hands. This is your chance to stay undercover and redeem yourself as a token of good faith. There's going to be a wake this Saturday with the funeral on the following day. Big players and Monica Hughes will be there. Eavesdrop what you can. I'll be going with you. It's tradition for the Chief of Police to pay respects to things like this."

"If we do this, will that restore the people's faith for Saints Row?"

"It'll get Valderamma off my back I'll tell you that," James laughed as Troy was about to exit the office. "I'm concerned about you, son. There are some who think you're way too cozy with a street gang."

"Some people like Camden, sir," he asked? "He was watching me earlier today while I was at the Pier."

"He's a creepy little beggar, but at least he gets results. That's all he's good for I'm afraid. Now his younger brother on the other hand, that kid has a personality. Should I be worried for you, Bradshaw? Your devotion belongs to the Precinct; I hope you know that."

Troy left the chief's office and was suddenly overwhelmed by the cameras and Jane asking questions as to why he wasn't coming out and cooperating with the Saints. Hardly getting a word in edge-wise, he told her he has a lot of hard decisions to make in the next couple days and he wasn't going to disclose such treasured information with the Press. He got out of the building and into his car before the news vans noticed he was gone. Luckily, the car he drove wasn't purple; he went beige driving away in his Toyota. Troy knew the drug mule kept a black book of client names and numbers and when he looked on his phone he didn't get any phone calls from him as to when the job was going to go down.

The only thing he could do at that point was go to the prison that was located on the Oceanside of the city, and tell the imprisoned Saints their days behind bars were numbered. As he drove, he saw a police car driving behind him; he knew the guy. He did a couple stakeouts with him before going undercover. Stopping at a red light leading into an intersection he saw a purple car rolling to loud music with Saints looking content with them-selves. Troy gripped the steering wheel and had his head down for a few seconds when it hit him about his own future.

The Commissioner didn't have a lot of years left on the force and there were a few candidates clawing at his coattails for the job. During his time in the Saints, he came to respect Julius as a friend when a majority of the crew treated him like a watered down gang banger; especially Dex. In the undercover community, every cop was their own person. Jason Camden was a little more out there ever since he moved city-side of Stilwater. Ever since his younger brother, Aaron had been the outgoing type in his High School, in his own way Jason got jealous, but wanted that jealousy as fuel when putting down the Saints for good, securing his new job as Chief of Police. Daylight was burning on the side of buildings in the financial side of the city so he drove back to the Pier to retrieve a boat to the prison.

The drug mule stood up slowly with both his hands up with the homeless guy pointing the crossbow at his chest. He had to hand it to him; clients he supplied to over the years became so predictable that he could feel a bad vibe when a gun's about to be raised and fired upon. This was the first time a crossbow played into his roster of uneasy clientele. Another rare thing he noticed when he was up close and personal when he opened the door to the alley, the guy didn't smell like garbage. He wasn't shaven but knew how to keep himself smelling like a posing shampoo aisle.

"You're a hard man to reach. Sorry about the arrow; my finger tripped."

"You don't smell like a homeless guy," Mel said.

"Really, he asked before taking off the rags revealing his casual clothing, what gave it away? Enlighten me."

"Hobos in this city don't smell like lavender," he replied.

"I should've gone with barbecue sauce behind the ears then. Well, since we're together now,"

"How do you know my name," he asked suspiciously? "I never sold to you."

"Melbourne Perry: a.k.a. the zig-zag: Born and raised in Boston; created a scene that led to your family disowning you at 18. You've been to thirty of the fifty states in the past four years, dealing with drugs and the like. You took up a free-running class in Manhattan for a year, went deep into the drug trade and worked your way up from college kids to high paying players in L.A., Chicago, and here in Stilwater. Not to mention your infatuation with the city's on top whore, Shaundi…"

Mel saw a pick-up truck coming in from his left. He back flipped away from the "homeless" guy's personal meddling and made a break for it to an underground nest he made on the other side of the city. Jason stood out in the middle of the street with an invigorating grin on his face. He pulled rank on a biker and told him he needed his motorcycle. When the biker refused, Jason put his badge away and pulled a gun out instead.

Then he was just digging himself deeper and deeper when the biker pulled out a double barreled shot gun as a way of saying, "Mutha-fucka please! A bullet's like a mosquito bite to me." He moved to plan B and instantly tazed the guy in his chest, causing him to fall off his bike. He followed up behind the truck where Mel was at; the driver wasn't going any faster so he took an alternate route at a Friendly Fire store around the corner. He was familiar with it having a stairway to the roof. It was still a stretch away from his nest, but he didn't feel like getting shocked today.

He jumped off and nearly lost his footing. He held onto his backpack and hauled ass to the gun store. Jason was getting a rush in chasing one of the most well-known drug mules in the city, and wanted to express the fact he wasn't screwing around by firing warning shots in the sky to break up the crowd. He almost caught up to Mel until he got knocked off his bike by some thick white dust thrown at him, courtesy of Mel's strong throwing arm. Jason got up and had a quick taste of the powder while he was still pursuing; sugar he said it tasted. Jason had an idea where he was going to go; last place he saw was Friendly Fire.

He was going to use the rooftops to escape, but a lucky break happened when Jason realized his apartment was eight blocks from the store. He got back on the bike and rode home in hopes of catching up to him. On the way home, his radio went off about random Stilwater situations. Call for backup, have the police set up a perimeter so an illegal runner wouldn't escape; that would have been the smart thing to do. Jason wasn't all that smart from a logical standpoint.

He was determined to catch Mel and interrogate him back at the precinct, but it was personal gain in moving on up, didn't care if the consequences circled around him. As he got to the roof of his apartment building, he saw Mel across from him still on the run. Jumping over rooftops required precise timing and pushing the right amount of gravity from your feet to get high enough to the other side of where you're going. For the next two blocks, Jason managed to catch up to him but the chase got better when he zip-lined on a string of laundry that soon broke after he got on it.

Jason landed on a fire escape outside a dark red boarding house, jumped on over to the next fire escape, and landed on the side of his stomach on top of a dumpster. Mel was within good sight distance; Jason took out a pocket knife and threw it with pristine accuracy at his left leg, rendering him grounded and blood seeping on the ground. Jason had labored breathing as he walked up to Mel with handcuffs in hand. Mel had no escape route to use for advantage. He scrambled for a contingency plan.

"You know, Mel grunted in pain, if you wanted us to be friends you could've just said so."

"Thanks for the exercise." He replied walking to him. "Bet your clients weren't chasing you with pocket knives."

"No, they used machetes. They love making examples. Even some use medieval swords."

"Ok hot shot, hands behind your back." he said when suddenly his phone went off.

How embarrassing he thought, getting a phone call when he was in the moment to catch a famous drug mule. Mel asked him if he was going to answer it while it was playing one of Aisha's songs, "Bitches be buggin!" He let out a chuckle as Jason got frustrated and told him to stay put. Mel then heard the sound of an engine drawing closer towards the alley they were in. He looked to an opening out on the street and saw a very exotic limousine with colors of green and black with a medium sized skull on the passenger's side.

He slowly looked back at Jason as his leg made a twitch in the direction of his escape. Jason then pulled a gun on him while talking on the phone, saying he was about to arrest a fugitive. Suddenly, a blunt object in a brown paper bag was thrown at Mel's head; Jason turned his back. He took a quick peek and saw a stun grenade inside, courtesy of the limo. With fast timing, he pulled the pin, rolled the grenade by Jason's feet and ran like hell with an explosive blast of white smoke rising behind him.

Jason fired three times in front of him while fighting the blindness of his stupidity. Sound of a car peeled away from the area and when the smoke cleared Jason noticed his bloodied pocket knife and a thin trail of blood leading out of the alley. He picked up the knife and ran out in the open with no drug mule to be seen, but it didn't matter to him. He was going to use the blood on the knife and analyze it. It would tell him Mel's origins, his top clients, hiding spots, basically a system that reveals every dirty secret the mule has and can be exploited from. Still in a daze, he was turned around as to how to get home. He winged it and started walking.

Mel was safe from the stalking cop, but felt too constricted when he found himself sitting next to two bodyguards sporting green and black clothing. In front of him lied two men of a specific practice in the drug business. One wore a white suit and sat with conviction while his business partner Mel assumed was smoking a joint he was unfamiliar with its contents.

"Uh…thanks for getting me out of there, sir. That guy's been tailing me all over town," Mel said.

"Civility, the General said lighting a cigar and smoking a puff, a rare quality in today's young generation. Your reputation is well known in many parts of the U.S."

"I get around; not very well as it turns out," he replied looking at his leaking leg. "Ah crap, my apologies."

"Not to worry, Mr. Sunshine assured him, Luke first aid."

"No need. I won't take up much of your time."

"It's no trouble. Allow me to introduce myself: I am known as "The General." This is my associate, Mr. Sunshine. He goes by another name which will not be disclosed to suppliers we've just met."

"I understand. So…General, as you can see I need medical attention and my home is six blocks down the other direction."

"Proposition must be heard first, zig-zag," Sunshine brought up.

"Indeed. As I've said, your reputation is good in the drug circles of this city. You don't take sides and get the job done. We've traveled a long way and we're looking to make a lasting impression."

"Something that will remind the people we are here to stay," Sunshine said.

"I'm not much of a franchising mule. If you need product moved to a certain location, I can oblige. Just give me the name of the product and where it's going."

The General took interest in Mel's tenacity. He asked Mr. Sunshine to take out a bag filled with a new kind of cocaine that can be either smoked or shot up. Loa dust it was called; it came from the deepest mines of Jamaica. The source was so good it can take you places that are not within the parameters of the universe. It could even place in full view your thoughts and fears; mind screwing at its' finest. General asked Mel to have a whiff of the Loa to see if he could fit it onto his menu of abusive substances. He made it clear to the both of them he doesn't indulge in his own supply. However, Mr. Sunshine insisted. Mel took a joint made of Loa and smoked a puff to see what it felt like. The effects hit him immediately; the world around him slowed and his muscles relaxed for a good couple minutes. Mel acknowledged how good it was and could make a killing off the selling of Loa.

"I am impressed that you enjoy what we have to offer. If you are willing to work for us, the pay will grant you the ability to put other Stilwater suppliers to shame."

"Of course, a piece of the profits you make goes to the General as a token of good business you understand," Sunshine asked?

"I do, but gentlemen, I respectively decline your offer. As good as Loa dust is I don't stay in one place. I'm a freelance drug mule and answer to multiple clients so if you want to business with me, it's going to have be done with no strings attached to my back."

"Do us a favor, Sunshine said giving the Loa bag to Mel, sell our product to your best clients, see how it goes."

"Any profits you make from that bag, you keep. We'll be in town all this week," the General said as he signaled the driver to stop. "I assume this is your stop?"

"I'll see how well Loa sells. Thanks again for the help," Mel said getting out of the limo.

Before the limo drove away, Mr. Sunshine peeked out the window and wanted Mel to deliver a message to every client he sells their product to. The Samedi was what they were called. Soon after he was left with a bag of Loa dust and missing crucial client appointments for every second he stood on the sidewalk. He ran inside his basement to clean up before making up the ground.

Dex drove around town looking for Johnny. Before he called the other lieutenants to inform them the safe houses were underway to being built. He got ahold of Aisha and was told to meet Johnny at Freckle Bitches and that he didn't come back to their new home yet. When he arrived, he went inside the burger joint and was greeted with a face friendlier in every sense of the word; especially in a fast food setting. She spoke in a New York accent.

"Hi-ya Dex," the female cashier smiled. "What's shaking?"

"Miranda, c'mere girl," he said giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Damn you looking good today."

"My boss said if I get breast implants I can become the next spokes model for Freckle Bitches."

"Denny the pervert told you that huh? Ay, you've seen Johnny?"

"He's outback eating his meal," she told him before whispering. "Cops are tracking him after the shit he pulled at the Stilwater Bridge."

"One of our own died on that boat. When I told Johnny he lost his shit," Dex said.

"Heard about that; sorry sweetheart."

Dex went through the kitchen leading to the back of the restaurant. He saw Johnny and looked at him with concern. Bruises from the night before were still present on his body; not to mention his shot up leg was probably driving him up the wall. He got his attention as he walked up to him and spoke of their crew's future.

"What'cha doing here, Dex," Johnny asked munching on his burger?

"It's all set. The safe houses will begin construction next week. Troy's getting the money from one of King's owned banks as a down payment. Once we pool our other resources all that's left is recruitment."

"Sounds good; Eesh and I are settling in at the Carnales's old crib. That place is fucking tight. I just need to go back to our other place to pick up a few things."

"When you got time man, we gotta talk about Playa's death. You know when one of our own gets hit, we find the mutha-fucka that did it and bust his ass up a new one."

"I intend to do that once I get back from Steelport," Gat replied drinking his soda.

"The fuck's in Steelport," Dex asked when he saw someone peculiar?

A limping man with white powder on his face was walking by Dex and Gat as the man looked at them with a deathly expression. Dex made a suggestion how the guy should go to Tee N'Ay next time if he wanted some kicks. He said the women's pussy there was more fluid and not puffy as it showed on his face. The powdered man turned out to be Jason as he pointed his gun at both of them. With a lazy smile and frustration driving him to do this, he threatened them to repeat what was just said. Gat quickly retaliated with a glock pressed against Jason's face.

Jason didn't budge once, just raised his gun and pressed against the side of Gat's forehead. Dex gave him one last chance to leave before Gat redecorated the brick wall with his brains. All that was said after was Jason telling them he was going to see them soon, pulled his gun away and walked out of there without any trembling in his steps. It was weird Gat said, weird how he didn't pull the trigger when the opportunity presented itself. Dex was glad it didn't go that route. Before leaving the place, he told Gat to get settled in at the new crib and was going to catch him around later.

Beneath the industrial and corporate veins that bounded the city together, lied a Shanty Town of hobos, wine-o's, and other unusual types who couldn't make it at a decent life. The weight of judgmental society drove them to the ground, and they fend for themselves and minded their own business. Other underground areas had nests; some were clean, some had bodies hidden from the law. Mel found his space where he called "home." Since he moved around so much for drug runs he made several nests in abandoned apartments and cheap motels.

For some reason though, in Stilwater he felt more relaxed. While the world above was moving like the speed of light, down below time works at a human's own pace. He sat on his old couch drinking his spoils as he rested a bit for his next client appointment. To some, it felt like days since he's been above ground. He's been sitting by his lonesome for two days, staring at the bag of Loa dust he has yet to sell.

When he first sampled it the stress fleeted from his shoulders. It was like he was taken for a stress free ride. The irony of that played in full view when he wanted to sample another taste of Loa. At first, he refused to do it; he picked up a handful of the dust in his hand and was going to make a joint out of it, but he put it back in the bag out of willpower. It was very potent stuff. One night he took a nap, and a dream came to him that didn't exactly place the odds in his favor, but in the end it was justified. He had an older brother working security at the Stilwater Correctional Facility that was offshore on an island.

They're not really close siblings. His older brother, Conner lost his way when he was studying to become a lawyer and wanted to work for Legal Lee; one of the best firms the city has to offer. He made a family too early; he was having a hard time going to school and taking care of his son, Brandon. For a time, he actually loved hanging out with his kid more. His girlfriend was already an intern at another law firm so they were pretty stable when living in their apartment. That was when bad luck came over him. In fact, it was negative influence that drove him to working at a prison.

Mel was the lucky one of the two brothers; he was working part time at a Zoo in Boston. Money was short, and he felt it wasn't his place to ask Conner for help so he was job hunting for a second job. He then met a drug dealer when he was walking home from work, all exhausted and used up like a dish towel. The dealer invited him to the back of a gas station and showed him what he had to offer. He was doing well for himself; selling all kinds of product and making stacks of cash while doing it. Part one of his dream ended when the last thing he saw was a strangled body next to him with a product in one hand and a grand on the other. The dream then led to a time Mel decided to go visit his nephew in Bay Village.

"_Uncle Mel," _Brandon said in excitement!

"_Hey champ, _he said as almost got knocked down, _whoa there! You've been practicing for football? I'd be worried about the other players if you stepped in."_

"_Dad's been teaching me…sort of," _Brandon said.

His dad came to front door and greeted Mel on a first name basis. Mel retorted with the same response. Brandon asked his dad if Mel could play football with him one weekend. Conner gave a fake smile and reminded him of the fact his uncle was a very busy man and rarely has any time to do something that mattered. Mel being a smart ass quickly responded he had time at that moment, and it was a lot more than his old man ever spent with him. He told Brandon to go to his room with a stern tone in his voice and Brandon walked away feeling like his dreams were crushed.

"_Five year olds; total idiots," _Conner said.

"_That's a shitty way to talk about your kid."_

"_What the hell you're doing here, Mel?"_

"_I'm here to spend time with my nephew. I heard that's what family does. You remember that right?"_

"_Brandon doesn't need you in his life. Last thing I need is to see him thrown in lock-up with the rest of retards who couldn't fly straight."_

"_That's how you see him; a criminal in an adolescent," _Mel asked in shock?

"_What do you care? You don't have children. You can't possibly understand what that feels like. Just look at you; drugs?! Heh, you can't maintain a real job, keep a steady girlfriend. You can't maintain anything, Mel. Drug dealers are losers, and I don't want my son near them. Next time you come on my front step again, I'll make sure Brandon's at school and you in a body bag."_

As Conner slammed the door on him, Mel dropped his back pack to stop the door mid-way. He then told Conner to open it up. Inside the backpack contained three things: a jar of sugar, some rent money to help him out, and something else that was buried to the bottom. He took out the sugar as he looked at him with desperation on his face, and took the money as well, all one grand of it. Conner then looked at the bottom of the bag and saw an autographed football by Stilwater's quarterback, Lance Hastings. He was one of Brandon's idols in the football league.

"_It's signed by the man himself. I was in the neighborhood when he was playing in the championship. You think of me as a crappy uncle, but at least I don't abuse him."_

"_What are you talking about? I never laid a hand on him."_

"_That's true. You let cigar ash do that. Tell me, do you do that when you're drunk or do you force him to punish himself," _he asked with silence following?_ "Marley would be ashamed of you; as I am."_

The dream faded as he woke up from his heart breaking slumber. By this time it only had been a few years since that visit, and a scene he caused that forced him to never look back. He looked through his black book of clients and saw Troy was next on the list. He composed himself and gave him a call for the job to go down at releasing his Saint pals from prison. This particular day was lucky enough; it was Conner's day off so there wouldn't be any friction or guilt on Mel's part. Troy told him he got the eight grand and was on his way to the Pier to deliver it. It was already 11:30 at night. He already knew where to secure the seven boats he got. As he went back to the surface, he took a deep breath with goal set in mind to completion. It was time to set free the purple angels.


	3. Chapter 2: Jailbird Trio

Chapter 2

Jailbird Trio

Stilwater Penitentiary is not for faint heart that lies in many small criminals these days. Since the prison was occupied off the city's coast, it only housed the most unique and prestigious types: serial killers, fat mommas and mack daddies who enjoyed their cell mates just a little too much, resourceful strippers, and free flowing whores to name a few. One whore in particular was one of the more neutral, hippie types. Stilwater housed several species of human beings, and hippies were a rare breed to come by. A couple days after the Spring Break bash in Steelport, many college students from Stilwater U made a break for it from the cops; illegal activity was a bit of an understatement for the cause.

Heck, the Steelport cops were wound up so tight you'd think they would have a prosthetic dildo puppeteer their every move. As crazy as it was at the time, many college drunks took their escape plans out in the city's ocean and stole a speedboat either off a fisherman or a CEO having a private session with his secretary. Others took the subway back to Stilwater; many thought were in the clear from the cops' jurisdiction. However, many weren't so lucky. The Stilwater police department was full of drunks and losers with cocaine snot out of their noses.

At the offshore prison, kids from 16-28 were placed in orange jumpsuits and thrown into cells. This hung over hippie tried to make a deal with the Warden about sucking him off so she could leave the next day on good behavior. Shaundi her name was; a.k.a.: the Stilwater whore. Granted, there were many exotic dancers who get it on with many forms of male filth. Shaundi had an edge though. Not only was she going to college, she also ran a drug farm outside of campus, sleeping with certain clients was just a side talent she had.

That was when the exes started becoming a mental list for her to track down, and reacquaint herself with. She was barely coherent when she got thrown into a cell next to a 300lb female named Marley Durango. Three days since the Spring Break bash; her waking up to the human garbage dumpster wasn't very high on her to-do list. Her eyes went blurry with the sunlight beating on her face; her cell mate stepped away for the torture to ensue. She got up from the cold ground slowly, feeling her way to a railing on the edge of a bunk bed. A fart brewed and filled the air, causing Shaundi to cough three times. She almost threw up in her mouth.

"My bad for not giving you a proper hello," Marley said sitting on the toilet, meatloaf and warm jell-0 is all they serve us here. I wouldn't recommend that shit though."

"Am I in jail?" Shaundi asked.

"She speaks!" Marley replied letting out another fart. "Damn, I thought I burned all this at the yard. Guess not."

Shaundi's sense of smell set off all alarms in her brain to wake up from her hangover and get out of her predicament before any more torture that was going to happen. She banged on the cell bars and screamed for any guards to let her out. The more begging she did, the more the halls in the cell block became quieter. It made her feel trapped in an isolated box with nobody to keep her sane other than her own thoughts. After numerous attempts of begging for attention, she broke down and lied against the bars. If that wasn't devastating enough, she put her hands on her head and didn't feel for her favorite bandana.

"I ran out of toilet paper. Hope you don't mind." Marley said wiping.

"I'm in hell. I overstayed my time in another city, this is what happens. Why am I even here?"

"Steelport Spring Break; heard about many of your friends getting shoved in here the night a riot broke over in that city. Cop cars turned the streets into rainbow candy canes rounding you screw-ups. You got thrown in here by popular demand."

"Why am I so special?" She asked.

"Your reputation, Marley replied pulling her pants up and flushing the toilet, you're familiar around a cock from Stilwater to god knows where in Steelport. You're the type who sucks off, following by info on new drug product. You own a farm outside the University right?"

"What's it to you?"

Marley shrugged her head from such a response while smiling. In her mind, Shaundi was not fully appreciating the small talk she was trying to oblige. She then walked over and eclipsed her very being with a tall shadow. She crawled away half hung and desperate for relief from the dastard smells. Marley restrained her against the wall, telling her if she wanted to stay on her good side, to let her have a free sample of every product Shaundi moved and manufactured on her farm.

Suddenly, Shaundi developed a little backbone and declined such an offer. Due to her natural grace in the art of negotiation, Marley backhanded her and threw her on the bottom bunk bed. She then got on top of her waist and squished it down to the bed springs, gyrating in the process. Shaundi screamed for help, following with muffled sounds with one hand pressed against her mouth. With crazy eyes bulging and feeling all in the zone, she asked Shaundi if she was capable in doing it both ways. A security guard walked by and used his nightstick to bang on the jail bars to get Marley's attention."

"The fuck is up, Marty? Can't you see I'm riding the Stilwater whore?"

"An honor had by many, Marley. You're nothing special." Marty said with her demanding him to repeat his last statement. "The Warden wants to see her anyway so c'mon; get off her."

She elevated with enough space for Shaundi to roll off the bed and scrambled her way over to the guard. Marley winked at her as she was getting her hands cuffed. Cell Block B; the Penitentiary had a unique way in separating the dangerous scums of life from just the lowest scums of life. Shaundi was placed in where love was in the air, among other things. She didn't get a feel for how the entire block operated, but she had seen enough to know that hell was her prison and she was about to meet the devil himself.

As they were walking past some more cells, male and female inmates got rowdy; some were jerking off to Shaundi while others wanted to slit her throat. Marty banged on the cell doors to simmer the noise down while to an extent, agreeing to throw Shaundi in one of the cells for some three-way action. She had to work fast she thought. She began scrambling for names of exes in her mind who might be able to bail her out of jail. That was when one came to mind. She brought up the name "Dennis Taylor" to the guard. She remembered him from a beach house party she went to in San Diego, California back when she was a junior in High School.

She remembered getting to him first before anybody else in his bedroom. Dennis told her she was the best he's ever had, and that was saying a lot since he never had sex with a hippie before her. A couple of heavy weed smokes and a nice swim in the grotto later, she found out how much money he had as an inheritance. His parents were top of the line Physicians who worked overseas, and made over thousands upon thousands of dollars tending to third world territories. Walking to the Warden's office was like enduring a calculus exam; the more she worked at it the more lost she became. Shaundi couldn't stay quiet anymore.

"Hey Marty, she said getting his attention, you get paid well here? 'Cause I know a guy with a hefty inheritance."

"Do you now?" He asked sarcastically. "Unless you tell me I'm the lost son of Legal Lee and I've been drunk off my ass to even give a shit, I doubt one of your boy toys has a steep wallet."

"You let me make my phone call. He gets here by boat, hands you the money and you let me go. You'll _never_ see me here again, I swear."

"I never see you around here again?"

"Yes, she replied with relief, name your price. I'll see to it he gets the number."

"Keep walking." Marty said firmly.

When they reached the hall leading to the Warden's office, her heart palpitated more so than ever. The atmosphere didn't smell as bad, but it was too quiet as opposed to the rousing welcome she got from the other inmates. Marty knocked on the door and told him he had a Shaundi for him. "Fuck my life" she said in her head. Warden Joseph Vulenti: head of the Stilwater Penitentiary, and the oiled machine that kept the prison above water so to speak. Both walked into his stuffy office filled with plaques and criminal profiles that were used as wallpaper behind his desk. Marty sat her down and kept her restrained there. For the moment, no words were spoken as Joseph examined every inch of her skinny, well-proportioned figure. He then told Marty to leave, and the door shutting behind marked a series of outcomes Shaundi was trying to actively not think about. She wasn't hung over anymore.

"This is a welcoming surprise. The one and only Shaundi sitting in my office, and I can do whatever the hell I want to her. But I have things to do so let me tell you why you're here."

"Mr. Warden sir," she asked before getting cut off.

"Did I give you permission to speak?" The Warden asked looking at the records on his desk. "Steelport: the party spot for Spring Break. Word from their precinct was that you disturbed a lot of peaceful citizens while getting high on marijuana. Dancing in the streets, scoring weed in the presence of a single mother carrying her two year old, grasping the attention of a certain DJ wearing dreads that he shouldn't in your words, "Give two shits about what the Man cares about us. We're here to bring the city to the ground!" Not only did you just promote a terrorist threat in a city setting, but also caused a huge riot trying to bring down a bunch of college kids who deserved to be there. What is it with you kids and explosives? Have you learned nothing from watching Channel 6?" He asked with Shaundi remaining silent. "This is the part where you tell me how I'm wrong."

"To be honest, sir, I hardly remember my own name right now."

"Well, let me clarify that for you. Your name is Shaundi: you fuck all types of men, sell drugs on a farm outside of Stilwater University, cause mayhem in a city you don't even have an area code in and plus, you evaded the police while they were rounding up the rioters. I always say it, and kids don't understand it, you run away from the cops your situation will just get worse. Eh, that's basically all I got. Too bad you're not a Saint. They have their own Cell block."

"Last I heard they were going to war with the Vice Kings." Shaundi said.

"That was months ago. Thanks to Julius and his purple soldiers, they took out three of the biggest gangs in North America. They did well for this city in spite of their records."

"At least I don't owe the Rollerz money anymore. Did I say that just now?"

Luckily, the Warden didn't hear what she just said about the Rollerz and went over to looking how long she was going to stay in jail. The end result was looking grim; four years on an island with no weed or a frat party to crash. That was when Shaundi brought up Dennis's name to his attention. She asked how much it would take to assure the Warden she could turn over a new leaf and wouldn't see her around his prison again. $14,000 was his quick response: $7,000 for child support for the single mother Shaundi exposed her kid to the weed, and another seven grand to fix up the Infirmary.

She acted with a counter defense saying that would be possible to pay if she was granted her one phone call. The Warden thought over her options, and a minute later he picked up his cordless phone and sent it her way. Before she was able to grab it, he swiped it away, leaving her puzzled from the act. He then took his left index finger and pressed it against her forehead while she was still arched, pushed her back in her seat. From there, he wanted to see something that was worth more than money.

He told her to stand up. Weak kneed she was she stood up with legs feeling like jell-0. He took the cuff keys from his desk and got up and walked over behind her. She was then asked to raise her locked hands as he loosened the cuffs up to gain circulation in her wrists. Standing in front of a middle aged, military looking pile driver with sick, sensual desires lurking in his mind he told her to take off her jump suit.

Asking why, he spoke sternly to strip. He took a few steps back and leaned on his office door as Shaundi unzipped her jumpsuit. It was sticking to her skin, but he didn't rush her. He was taking in the imagination of her body finally coming true before his eyes. Once it was off completely and on her feet, he then told her to bend over on his desk. He looked to her as a flexible little lady; firm posterior, not too fat; not overly skinny. She was just right from his point of view. However, once he started getting personal on the right upper thigh area, she reacted out of nowhere and punched him straight in the nose, causing him to topple over to the side. The thumping noise left Marty outside curious.

"_Sir, is everything alright in there?"_ Marty asked.

"I'm fine, Marty." The Warden assured him. "It's all under control."

Shaundi whispered a desperate apology for reacting the way she did, but the Warden told her not to worry about it, and to put her jumpsuit back on. While he was taking in the pleasures of the flesh, all he saw was bruised fruit. However, it was the kind of fruit with enough bite that could kick back the taste buds, probably knock them out cold. For him, he was more of a Salisbury steak kind of man; more flavor with a side of mash potatoes. After he was done with the food metaphors, he handed her the phone back this time, and with confusion on her face she looked at him while dialing the numbers. It took three, torturous rings but she finally got through to Dennis.

"H-hey its Shaundi, you remember me? San Diego, big beach party, took me back to your place to smoke a couple doobies and cop a feel? I was the only hippie there; right. Listen, I'm in jail right now and was wondering if you could bail me out? You shitting me; what about your 4.7 billion dollar inheritance; you kept bragging on how your parents…do you have _any_ moneyin your heart to bail my skinny ass out for old time's sake? Yeah I know it was back in High School but still…$14,000. Hello…?"

"Guess my Infirmary isn't getting upgraded?" He asked as she handed his phone back to him and sat back down. "Don't take it so hard; you got a mean swing. Before you know it, four years will go by like that. Come back in, Marty!"

The Warden turned himself around facing his window, shielding his bloody nose from Marty. He opened the door and prepped Shaundi to be taken back to her cell when Joseph asked him who she was cell mates with when she was brought in. Marley "big boned" Durango Marty told him. Soon after, he wanted to see Marley in his office as well. Marty accepted the order and cuffed her. Before heading out the door, Joseph told her one more thing.

"What you just did Shaundi, keep it up. You'll last longer in these walls that way."

"Sir, she's not capable of anything else but drugs and fucking losers." Marty said.

"That'll be all." The Warden said strictly.

When they got back to Cell Block B, enduring the rowdy cell inmates once again Shaundi was greeted by Marley's esteemed posture in wanting to be ready to make violent love to her. Marty opened the gate and ordered Shaundi to get inside. Marley acknowledged Shaundi was brought back in the same condition she was in, if not a little sweaty in the arm pit area. Before Marley began her sick desires, Marty stopped her and said the Warden wanted to see her as well. For reasons he had no idea; she brought up jell-0 day at the cafeteria and wanted to be first in line to eat the orange and red gelatin out of other people's trays.

Marty attempted to cuff her wrists as she stepped outside, but a dirty look pulled out all the stops which implored him to not even try. Shaundi sat in her bunk bed looking at her bruised hand she used to punch the Warden with. She laid back and a flash image ran past her mind on a city; Steelport no doubt. Then other images showed the dancing scene and leading a dance revolution out on the streets, following a unique fellow with a rhinestone "Z" on his hat. She still couldn't piece together what led her to getting caught by the cops and getting a four year stretch of all things. She was never the confrontational type; there would be times she would defend herself out of impulse but only when things got too fresh. Mid-afternoon sun shined on certain corners of the cell block. She didn't have anything else to do but close her eyes and think back to Spring Break.

Marley was allowed in almost immediately when they got to his office. Once again, Marty waited outside so they can have their privacy.

"What's good, Chief?" Marley asked him.

"How are you settling in with Shaundi?"

"She ok I guess; still going to fuck her brains out though."

"It's highly unlikely." He replied turning to face her. "I wouldn't recommend it."

"That little girl knocked a good one on your nose? Nice!"

"Who knows? If she is capable of hitting me who knows she'll snap at next."

"So why am I here?" Marley asked.

"You still got another five year stretch on your sentence. You haven't been killing anybody so if you're willing, tomorrow morning you're going to give Shaundi the grand tour of this place. Who knows, she might find one of her exes rotting around here."

"What do I get if I show her the ropes?"

"Visitation rights, Marley. You'll be able to see your daughter again. I know how much you miss her."

Marley held back some tears she had creeping up to her eyeballs. She couldn't believe how much of a good mood Joseph was in; maybe that punch changed his attitude she thought. Both shook on the deal, and before he asked Marty back in to collect her he got up and dropped one of his trophies on purpose. He let out a big "ow" and Marty stormed in to handle the situation. It was to fool him into thinking the Warden dropped the trophy on his nose in the first place. Before they left, he told Marty to make an announcement to the other guards in Cell Block B about jell-0 time in fifteen minutes. She winked at him and he winked back before his door was closed.

Flash images turned into hazy situations clouding Shaundi's brain. She thought of vibrant colors, moving parallel toward one another. The man with a Rhinestone "Z" showed her a pimp who knew how to party with the Steelport talent. Those thoughts turned sour when she was reintroduced to her one night stand with Dennis in San Diego. For the moment, she was hell bent on depending on his help, but the phone call didn't leave much encouragement to say the least. Her new lady friend really knew how to scream at just the right time, and maybe that was the reason he didn't bail her out.

If there was one thing she figured out in building her reputation getting around, the pussy dominates every muscle the male body has; especially the only muscle that is rarely used by the curious and carefree. Last thing she remembered was a group of cops manhandling her and one other person getting off some form of transportation. A black bag went over her head and she woke up in a cold sweat, looking up at Marley sitting next to the cell bars.

"You look like you were having a very good dream." Marley said. "Not many dreams I had lately. I'm just counting down the days I have left in this shithole. Joey told me what happened. He was feeling on your naked body; saw the scars along your back and thighs. You stood your ground and put him in his place."

"He must've had his morning coffee." Shaundi said sitting up in her bunk. "Men tend to mellow out when caffeine hits their insides after a long night of partying. Or is that after smoking marijuana and craving for a cheesesteak sandwich? Eh, it doesn't matter."

"You not pissed what he did?"

"I reacted once. That's rare for me since I don't do well in confronting people. He could've had his way, but he didn't. I can't really explain it."

"How long's your sentence?"

"Short lived actually. One of my exes is on his way to bail me out right now."

"Girl, I've only been with you for a few hours, and I can already tell you're lying."

"It's _that_ obvious huh? Four fucking years; I gave that rich prick the best night he ever had. He was a first timer too. Ugh, I'm still piecing together what happened on Spring Break."

"I'm sure it'll get back at you soon. Look, Marley said standing up while Shaundi held her legs together, calm down I ain't going to do nothing. Joey wants me to show you how we do things on the island. Now, I can't respect you if you don't keep consistent to your "reactions". So here's how it's going down; you stand by me, you learn what I do. Don't _do_ what I do unless an inmate is giving you shit, and just so we're clear, your jell-0 is mine."

"Can't I at least have a taste?" Shaundi asked politely.

"What you think?" She asked with a smirk. "In the next eight minutes we'll be heading to the cafeteria. Most likely you'll be cleaning the kitchen while I'll be kicking it at the yard. Get ahold of Roosevelt; he won't be hard to miss."

"How will I find him?"

"He's like the ghetto Pillsbury dough boy, but don't his laugh fool you. He's cool with me. Once you're done cleaning vomit and inmate blood, get Roosevelt to wave you in to the yard."

Before they knew it, two security guards walked by each cell and had the inmates in a single file line. They marched to the cafeteria. With a prison being on an island there wasn't a whole lot of space to roam in; except the water itself. Prisoners have tried to escape using beat up boats and piss poor swimming skills to reach freedom. Thanks to the Coast Guards' fine sharpshooting skills, they don't make it past the prison's perimeter.

The cafeteria was what was expected in a jail setting; cell blocks sitting at their table spots while a separate group ate in the middle. Shaundi and Marley walked inside and took in the sultry smell of slop and stale jell-0. Marley was more excited than anyone in line. As they got to the food line, Shaundi noticed the center table filled with members of Saints Row. She could tell by the purple wrist bands and angel tattoos.

After getting their trays of processed food, they sat down at one of the tables with Marley wasting no time taking Shaundi's blue jell-0. She asked once more if she could get one tiny, morsel so her stomach could shut the hell up with all the growling. Marley respected Shaundi, but not enough to share her food. She closed her eyes and massaged her forehead as her mind brought her another flashback in an arcade. Her skin was burning up; she was able to feel other people's skin on fire too.

The feeling almost led to Shaundi throwing up in her mouth but Marley woke her up before that happened. One of the rules to live by in the cafeteria was to never nod off while other inmates are around. Security guards don't always see the inappropriate activity while others just sit back and enjoy them tearing each other apart. She was scared she told Marley; living in a cell with an unpredictable gorilla was bad enough. Her reaction time to things weren't as attuned, and as she said before she didn't bode well in confrontations.

"Girl, you gotta get used to it. I have my daughter riding on this, and if it kills me before you, Imma make sure you have some idea to stay alive in here."

"You have a daughter?" Shaundi asked?

"Let it go." She replied looking at her empty jell-0 cups. "I need mo jell-0; don't go no-where."

Shaundi overheard some commotion going on by the Saints' table. One guy was getting loud and making a bunch of claims he knew someone in their crew by the name of Johnny Gat. He used to help him out on jobs and even used a bulldozer to crush some investment bankers that were giving Johnny shit about not paying his taxes. The guy wanted in their crew, protection was more of the word in this case. One of the crew members stood up and calmly told him they weren't recruiting at the time.

However, the inmate wasn't having it with twenty-one Saints talking down to him. It all had something to do with pride and how he wanted a piece of the action after their battle against the Carnales. Things escalated when one of the other members took offense with the inmate's reasoning to be with them. Marley came back with five new cups of colored jell-0 and asked Shaundi what she was looking at. When she saw the commotion going on, she pulled her face front and center.

"Another rule: Making eye contact with gang bangers is not a way to make friends. 'Less you got beef with them, and I don't mean problems?"

"Guys I've fucked don't belong in gangs. Most of the frat parties I went to had football jocks, tweakers, and small dick Preppies. I'm not discriminating or anything."

"No harm no foul, little girl." Marley said indulging in some green jell-0. "Love is what you make it, no matter how distant it is…"

That same inmate walked by their table and started up another argument about Shaundi. She avoided eye contact and stared at her hands, enduring the constant put down about how she should mind her own business or he was going to have the Saints put her in a box. Marley started laughing at how whack he was throwing his words together like he was some sort of hardcore gangster that was fallen from the grace of a purple angel. Other inmates in the cafeteria started snickering and laughing up a storm. He looked around and flipped off each and every one of them.

"Corey, Marley said getting his attention, go sit down. You're too funny to be a Saint."

"Man fuck you, girl. I didn't ask for your goddamn opinion." Corey said perfectly clear. "I'm the master, I'm the emperor; I'm a mutha-fuckin King! I'm Lionel Richie, you the talentless version of Aretha Franklin."

"Dude, chill the fuck out! You're giving me a headache." Shaundi acted defensively.

With a rousing "excuse me" bellowing from Corey, he put a shiv to her throat and made a sexual threat about skinny girls owning the entire game. Nobody wanted to run the damn city of Stilwater the right way anymore. After the leader of the Vice Kings, Benjamin King left the country, Corey was seeing a lot of purple roaming around and rebuilding places other gangs tore up. In his own way, he was torn up in not rolling with the Kings anymore and just wanted to fit in somewhere. Shaundi told him to look up and in a blink of an eye she smacked both her hands against his ears, causing him to drop the shiv.

She quickly picked it up and threatened him to get away from their table before he was going to lose one of his ears. Corey called her bluff and rammed her into the floor all of a sudden; other inmates surrounded the table for a fight. She was getting bruised a good deal on her face until she stuck the shiv into his abdomen and kicked his head away, knocking him on his back. Security pushed through and kept Corey plastered while Shaundi acted fast and slid away from the situation. If that wasn't enough she jumped on another table and skid across. One inmate wanted to get grabby but another reaction took shape when she jump kicked him and landed feet first on the floor. Marley shoved and head butted inmates out of her way and caught up with her. They both escaped from the confusion and hid in a janitor's closet. They barricaded the door and waited until things settled down.

"Wow, I didn't think I had that kind of agility." Shaundi said in amazement, spitting out some blood.

"You damn well surprised me, girl." Marley replied catching her breath.

"I've dated a few ex-convicts in my time, but I never thought I'd be dealing in the real thing. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, that jell-0 lethal if you don't eat it carefully; head's spinning and shit. We should be fine in here. Fights like these don't even last five minutes."

"I'm sure the Saints aren't too happy with him."

"They'll deal with him soon enough. Ass holes like him give gang members a bad rep. He must've lived in Sunnyvale before his broke ass got here."

"I stabbed him." Shaundi said with concern.

"You think he won't last the night?"

"Blade wasn't that long; probably not."

Marley's labored breathing was becoming more frequent when she had no choice but to dash out of the cafeteria to hide in a closet. Shaundi asked her again if she was going to be alright. All she wanted was to see "her," her daughter she thought. They haven't really had the chance to exchange life experiences and what led them to an island slammer. That was going to come later. Marley had a trust system with certain inmates she knew, but she didn't give Shaundi the full gist of how that system worked. The nutshell started as a ladder; Marley still saw her as a sex plaything, but a plaything that can bite back if pushed enough. Seven minutes later, things were settling down on the outside. Marley took a peak out at the left; inmates were being escorted back to their cells and out to the yard. Suddenly, the janitor door swung wide open and two Saints greeted them with open arms surprisingly.

"What's good, 3rd Street?" Marley asked.

"Which one of you ladies is Shaundi?" A male Saint asked, followed by a raised hand.

"That was cool what you did in there." The second inmate praised.

"Corey's been riding our asses for weeks about joining up with us. Not even Dex would hook him up."

"Trust me; you don't need niggas like that in your crew. Julius knew how to recruit men and women worthy of the purple color."

"That's what's up. Name's Tyreese; this is my man Scott."

"Eh look we gotta get back with our people 'fore the guards catches us." Scott said.

All four met on good terms. Shaundi got up and spoke of how dishes weren't going to wash themselves, but Marley told her otherwise by having her go to the yard. Stay visible she told her, and to not lift things that were heavier than her scrawny arms. Marley stayed behind to ask Tyreese and Scott for a favor; a rare thing for her character but she was getting antsy in these circumstances. Her daughter, Cassie was living with her aunt down where Kingdom Come Records used to be.

She wasn't an over the top Aisha fan. However, the Saints occupied there the most. Marley told them a little about Cassie and wanted them to provide protection wherever she went. She was still not convinced about the other gangs being wiped out for good; especially the Rollerz. Lucky for Tyreese, he had a loyal crew living in the same area as Cassie so it wasn't going to be a problem looking out for her. She gave them a picture and they assured her they will take care of the favor. Before heading out to the yard, she reached in her pocket and had an extra jell-0 cup saved.

The prison yard was for all recreational needs. It was on the far side on the penitentiary overlooking the water. Whenever inmates weren't playing basketball or lifting weights, some of the more nostalgic types look to the distance where Stilwater was ever still the great city for its time. It was a pretty cool afternoon, but a very tense one when Shaundi walked around avoiding eye contact at the same time. A few male inmates complimented her slick moves she performed on Corey, while others loved it rough.

There were very few females out in the yard around this time in order to segregate the sexes, and not become a giant orgy fest. At least, that was one of the guidelines said on a sign entering the yard. She went up to the fence to join the nostalgic types looking at the city's structure. Subtle wind blew past her crinkled, ragged hair with no bandana to keep it in place. Suddenly, her mind brought her back to a subway train, all wired up with no sense in calming down. Her neck felt something was poking inside it followed by a violent pushing with an echoing insult, "junkie whore". Her body stumbled out of the train; she looked to her left and without warning her face was kicked in. That jolted her brain to come back to reality. One of the female inmates with a distinct, thick accent called out to her.

"Anybody tell you, you drool when hallucinating?" She asked. "You look pale; sit down."

Shaundi turned away from the fence and almost collapsed before catching herself by locking her knees. The female inmate put her weights down and helped Shaundi onto a weight bench next to hers. She introduced herself.

"Tripping is the worst after an all-night bender. I don't remember the last time I took drink though. Name's Lacey Tabakov. Lace if you're feeling light-headed."

"Shaundi, she introduced herself, if you have any food on you, I'll tell you other dirty names I got."

Marley found her sitting in the hot sun with a very well put together woman with dirt and grime to match. She saw something was off and was ready to point fingers. She swiftly put her hands on Lacey and threatened her if she didn't come clean about what she supposedly did to make Shaundi pale. Shaundi cut in and explicitly told Marley everything was cool but was starving. She didn't go into further detail on that. Marley wanted her cell mate to keep thinking straight so she took out the grape jell-0 from her pocket and gave it to her. She ripped the top open and ate it like a savage caveman. Lacey and Marley guarded her to make sure the other inmates didn't get any funny ideas about food being strictly prohibited off the yard. Nobody was making a fuss though; not even the guards. They were too busy playing solitaire and disciplining an inmate with their nightsticks.

"Don't'cha got sugar daddies to polish, little girl?" Marley asked giving Lacey the stink eye.

"Nah, sugar daddies don't even taste like sugar. They tip well back in Vegas though; you can earn up to 18-24 grand a night if you really know how to work it. Maybe when you lose the Freckle Bitches diet, I can show you a few moves."

"You're lucky you got nice tits." Marley said gritting her teeth.

"They're natural like smooth mother's milk." She replied when Shaundi interrupted.

"Nice to see you're making friends."

Security guards were present all over the yard; some on guard towers with high powered rifles while ground patrols carried stun batons with an "imma get you sucka!" attitude. Three guards got wind on Shaundi, Marley and Lacey's newfound bond and went over to the weight stations to lay down the rules. All three stood up with Marley being the biggest and most intimidating. The guards made it clear if they weren't pumping iron, they would find themselves in more grotesque conditions pumping iron on the assembly line. One guard noticed Shaundi due to the rumors going around she punched the Warden, and lived to walk the corridors keeping quiet about it.

Though the guard didn't make any sudden moves, he was keeping a close eye on her while Marley shooed the others away. Lacey introduced herself to Marley and all got acquainted while lifting weights. Shaundi sat and watched them. After a few pull ups from Lacey's breathtaking biceps, Shaundi felt her arms and were too flabby to lift a burlap sack. Then she thought back to a time when she and an ex were hauling bags of oxy to the drug farm; the bags were give or take six-seven pounds. She took one weight and struggled lifting it up; using her other hand she attempted to do the same thing. They were paying her no mind failing to lift weights so she tried putting her back into it, and was able to make one rep.

Life on an island prison was not as luxurious as it sounds to some. It has four cell blocks, around nine weak structural points that weren't completely fixed from past breakouts, a crappy infirmary that makes do with whatever medical supplies they had in stock, and a prison is not complete without manual labor for the inmates. It was reaching sun down; Lacey and Shaundi were ordered by a supervisor to work on a special project. Marley was tasked to clean and disinfect a portion of Cell Block A along with other chosen inmates. Before all three departed, Marley reminded Shaundi to watch her back and not fall in any sewer pipes.

The supervisor let them in on the special project not even the Warden was aware of. He took a look at Shaundi's rap sheet, saying she had experience in dealing with all types of goodies. Both were secretly going on a drug run, courtesy of an unknown client. The product was going to some uptight casino dwellers that lost all their life savings playing at expensive crap tables. They were in desperate need of a hit to make them-selves feel good about the whole ordeal.

Shaundi and Lacey found themselves walking in an abandoned part of the prison that had an old boating dock. One boat with five knapsacks of mysterious product was present. Before they left the supervisor made it clear to them not to indulge their polluted immune systems with Loa dust. There was a new supplier in Stilwater that was making moves in the underground circuit. They had about six hours to deliver the product to the customers and bring the money back to the same exact spot they were going to leave from. They didn't have to worry about the Coast Guard either since the perimeter guards decided to take naps that knocked them out for five and a half hours. From there, they set out with directions written for them on a map. Their first location was at a warehouse near the industrial district of the city. Luckily, each location had a dock near them.

"Man, it's good to be free!" Shaundi said out loud.

"The feeling's mutual. Hopefully we get to do this more often." Lacey replied.

"You have experience in distributing drugs?"

"I grew up in Las Vegas. I'll you decide that."

"I've only been to Vegas once for a bachelor party. Next day I woke up with a bad itch and three grand under my shirt. Were you dancing long; I didn't recognize you before today?"

"No, I came to Stilwater when I was seventeen. There I worked as an exotic dancer, living with boyfriend and another roommate. I ran into some bad luck though as you can see."

"You seem like a cool gal. Maybe if we get released on good behavior we'll go grab a beer, get reinstated into Stilwater society."

"I can always go for stiff alcohol." Lacey said.

Shaundi took a look at the city map and found the drop offs highlighted in light green. There were five locations that consisted of warehouses and ill repute casinos that take in hemorrhaging customers with a spec of hope they will win all their money back. The first location was marked by the Barrios; Salan's Fish Market. Lacey was looking around the boat for any change of clothes, but under some old fishnets and the five knapsacks of Loa dust all they had were the orange jumpsuits on their backs. Shaundi assured her they were going to be in the fish market and out just as quickly. By the time they reached one of the docks it was nightfall, filled with hobos and people with tin foil hats talking about aliens. Getting out of the boat and making footwork on shore they came across two neatly wrapped packages, sitting firmly on top of a trashcan. Lacey looked at them and found a note wishing them good luck on their drug run.

"_-Word around the street corner is that you ladies are out having a grand ole time celebrating freedom. Don't expect to enjoy it for long. Remember, you are doing society a favor by keeping your kind behind bars. I thought I'd leave you with some clothes that are fashionable and professional; happy distributing."_

_-Admirer of Shaundi's_

Looking at the note, Shaundi was able to think of seven, possibly eight exes with good literate skills; poor in the bedroom department though she said. When they opened the packages, one had a leather jacket with jeans and a tube top. The other had a trench coat, grey slacks, and a female business shirt colored green. Shaundi put the note down for a minute and both looked around to see if anyone was trying to get a peep show. Normally, due to their reputations for obtaining information and getting naked they wouldn't care if it was for pleasure purposes. As far as they knew it was very quiet.

Once they lost the jumpsuits and slipped on the business attire they were on their way to the fish market. Carrying the note in her right hand, a lingering aroma couldn't leave Shaundi's nose be. She held it close and smelled the paper; before she knew it she remembered being on the train back from Steelport. Her vision was clearer this time around; the train was moving at a steady pace, college kids that managed to evade the cops were laughing and falling over each other. Then a strange figure was sitting in a dark corner of the train.

She didn't think anything of it at the time. There was a mini party going on about freedom and flipping off sobriety that she wanted everyone to join in. The dark figure stood up and would've backhanded her if she didn't have the reflexes to duck. Her neck was then grabbed, cutting off circulation. She couldn't get a good look at the man and was looking up at the train's fluorescent lighting. She was coughing profusely while Lacey tried getting her attention. The note was crumpled and laid next to her hand on the ground so Lacey picked it up and put it in her pocket for the time being. She was growing concerned.

"Are you ok? Did you see anything?" Lacey asked.

"The note…" Shaundi said in a raspy tone.

"It's in my pocket. Look, I know we just met and all…you know what, when we get back you can tell me."

"Water…water!" Shaundi panicked running back to the dock.

Lacey held onto the knapsack and ran after her to make sure she was fine. Suddenly, Shaundi stuck her head under water and drank until she was satisfied. After a minute she didn't move; Lacey pulled her head back up for air as she was catching her breath. She then suggested that she would handle the first delivery alone, and that Shaundi should stay and guard the boat. She insisted in tagging along knowing the area, but the end result was giving Lacey directions to the fish market.

Before she left, Shaundi wanted the note back and read its words again. Lacey refused and made a run for the market. She was able to smell the fish two blocks away; it brought her to the warehouse itself. The area was completely deserted and spacious; trucks and a barge on the far side of the Barrio to represent the sweat and trout as the backbone for the city. Lacey put the Loa bag on the floor as she banged on the market door to be let in.

Two eyes from a doorway became immersed with enticing gifts, but not for the pleasures of the flesh. The fish worker on the other side asked her to state her business, opening the doors immediately after. One of the fish employees frisked her while the others checked the bag to taste the product. It was legit enough to drop two grand in her hand, and to tell her prison guard they greatly appreciated the gesture. It was an easy first delivery.

From there she ran back to her water drinking friend. The next location took place at a meat processing plant in the factories district. It was shut down due to constant complaints in burger sales at Freckle Bitches. Courtesy of Jane Valderama, the factories were going to be re-opened if new owners took over and started making legitimate power tools for construction workers. When they reached the factories, Shaundi took the journey this time, assuring Lacey she was feeling alright and feeling brand spanking new after her sudden dip in murky water.

She took the second knapsack and made her way onto the street, hailing a cab to take her outside of the closed off route to the processing plant. Getting out and asking the driver to wait a moment, she came across a group of more illegal, suit wearing types. At first, she thought they were mobsters about to do a shakedown on a hippie. Turned out, they were washed up lawyers who used to work for Legal Lee. After each lawyer had a taste of the Loa, they offered their payment of two grand plus another two grand as a token in having something relax their minds. The cab driver got a little nosey and didn't like being strung along for a drug run.

"The fuck is this?!" Cab driver asked pulling up across from Shaundi. "I don't get paid driving to drug deals."

"It's cool man. Just stay in the cab." Shaundi told him.

"No chance girl. You and your mafia wannabes are going down."

He got out his cell phone and was about to dial 911. Shaundi went over and tried convincing him there was no reason for things to get messy. Easy for her to say; one of the lawyers indulged in a little too much Loa and took out a rocket launcher and aimed for the cab. Shaundi got startled and shouted at them to not kill the driver. Suddenly, the lawyer's finger slipped and she jumped out of the way with a giant explosion happening behind her. She took the payment and ran as fast as she could back to the docks. Along the way she noticed an old man wearing a light brown trench coat, riding a bike. She ran up to the guy and pushed him off, apologizing soon after.

Lacey sat in the boat, looking over the note that got Shaundi worked up to the point of nearly choking to death. The smell from the paper was just cheap cologne to her with a hint of A1 Steak Sauce; nothing out of the ordinary. She heard her name called out and she looked where Shaundi was riding frantically back. She started up the boat while she tossed the money inside. They rode off on another successful delivery, but not completely unscathed.

"I'm a little cooked, but I'm fine." Shaundi said placing the money bag next to the first.

"What happened back there?"

"In a nutshell: a pissed off cab driver, four homeless lawyers, and an explosion."

"This cab driver blew up our customers?!" Lacey asked.

"No, one of the lawyers got high immediately off the Loa and pulled an RPG out of his ass. The cab driver's dead."

"Shit, Marco wanted things to go smoothly. He's not going to be happy about an explosion in the city."

"Well, that's not our problem. We got the money and three more bags of product to go. Where do we go next?"

In the early hours of the night, the downtime at the island prison was filled with rowdy cell blocks, some inmates get taken to the shower room while others have some questionable fun with their cell mates that some choose to not partake in looking. Unfortunately for Marley swabbing the decks in Cell Block C, she was standing in orgasm territory. Even more unfortunate it wasn't on the female side of the prison. This cell block in particular was filled with criminals with life sentences on their heads for sexual assault, molestation, and public indecency. Life sentences meant years of back up in the private area so whenever the guys were done demonstrating their public service to the guards' amusement, on lockdown they get down and dirty in every sense of the word.

Marley was just about done cleaning the floors with a used mop and some soapy water; she would have been forced to break the jail gates off their hinges if it weren't for Tyreese and Scott getting her attention. They ran it by the guards in the block to have a word with her. She dropped the mop and power walked out of there as far away as possible to avoid the orgy fest. She thanked them for being pulled aside and around a long corner leading to an emergency exit of the prison.

"I couldn't take those groans anymore. So what's up?" Marley asked them.

"We got a call back from our crew." Tyreese said. "Cassie's being looked after my older sister, Darlene. She's good people. She'll be safe."

"Good looking out, guys." She replied out of respect.

"We Saints always look out for Stilwater." Scott said.

"There's something else too." Tyreese brought up suddenly.

Marley grew concerned when she saw a grim expression on both of their faces. Cassie was kidnapped a few weeks ago by a few Vice King members who didn't get pinched by the cops. Scott asked her if she was familiar with the name Anthony Green; Benjamin King's enforcer. They told her back when the Kings were still in business there were various kidnappings of young girls from 12-18. Before Tony was murdered, he hired the wannabe gangster Corey to carry on the kidnappings from behind the scenes.

That was the reason why he went inside. Tyreese and Scott's crew in particular had no idea who he was or why he wanted to join the Saints so desperately. Completely unknown to Corey, he spilled his guts about the kidnappings to his cell mate. Word got back to a few ex-Vice Kings who got taken in, but Scott especially had an ear for dirty secrets. He heard the name "Cassie Durango" and didn't know of her importance until they met Marley after the cafeteria fight. Cassie was fourteen when she was taken, but Tyreese skipped the assurances of her well-being and got right to the point.

The Saints may be heroes to most people around Stilwater; that didn't mean they were weak. When Benjamin King left the country under the good word of their leader Julius, they thought the kidnappings were over and done with. Corey was still pulling strings with contacts he knew in the city to continue the heinous acts on young girls. Now it was the time to exact some corporate punishment the only way they knew how. Scott told them the prison wasn't a big structure to begin with, and with the recent entry of nearly two dozen Saints plus Kings, the place was getting overcrowded to say the least.

The Warden looked up Tyreese and Scott to take care of the populating problem. It was no debate in Marley's mind; this bit of news of Cassie getting kidnapped was not lost on her. She knew what happened when she first got sent to the island prison, but her daughter couldn't identify who was responsible. That question was always in the back of her mind. All three went outside and made their way to one of heliports where a good fifteen remaining Vice Kings plus Corey were tied by rope, and placed in a big circle. No audience, no helicopters trying to get footage; retribution was all that played in the air. Marley looked at each tied up member until she could see Corey. Once her sights were set on him, he was shitting himself at the very sight of her. Scott ran in front of her and took the ropes off and restrained him. She looked Corey up and down before ripping the duct tape off of his lips.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Corey asked inhaling and exhaling at the same time.

"Heard ya like kidnapping teenage girls."

"Yeah so; I didn't do shit to them. I was only getting paid by one of King's investors to keep the kidnaps going."

"Remember Cassie Durango? Fourteen years old, hazel brown eyes, curly black hair, half my size?"

"Name's familiar; why would you, Corey said before thinking for a split second, oh my god."

Marley kicked him in the groin and thrust his head against the concrete floor of the heliport, dragging him away from Scott and throwing him center stage. She asked him in an emotionless tone to get up. Corey got on one knee and was sent back down with a strong right hook that nearly took his eye out. She told him to get up once again, following a swift kick on his lower jaw, sending him hurdling backwards to Tyreese. Corey was then pushed back to Marley and she beat the living snot out of him: curb stomped his chest, head butted him, even broke his left leg.

On the sidelines, Tyreese and Scott were thoroughly impressed with the way she fought and handled herself. The only thing Corey did in fighting back was spitting blood in her face and slapping her soon after. Marley was beyond calm at that point. She ran up to him and lifted him up with brute force and ripples shaping around her eyes. Corey was then thrown off the heliport with his other leg broken. She jumped off and landed perfectly on her feet with plenty of strength to burn.

"Hold up, he said coughing up blood and writhing in pain while sliding away, I didn't know she was your daughter. Gimme a chance, just give me a fucking," he screamed as she kept him grounded with her body.

"What did you do to my little girl?" She whispered before punching him. "The FUCK DID YOU DO TO HER?!"

"Marley, Tyreese called out to her, he's done for, girl. He ain't gonna come back from this!"

"I had…no idea she was your blood. Believe me I swear."

"People in my life have sworn a lot of things to me. The Saints will _never_ take in a heartless shit head like you. Burn in hell," She said before twisting his neck.

Marley fell backwards after taking a necessary life for the sake of her daughter. Wind was the only sound brewing on the outside. As soon as she had gotten the wind back in her chest, she got up and walked up the stairway back to the heliport where Tyreese and Scott looked to her with recognition of a job well done. They praised her for having the stones to do what she did. Unknown to other inmates, she had never killed people, not even for personal gain or justice. She would beat them to a bloody pulp to defend herself and not show any weakness, but a killer wasn't high on her character qualities. As for the other Kings, Marley was told they weren't her problem and that Tyreese was going to take things from there. Scott signaled one of the guards to escort Marley back to the showers to clean her-self off. She thanked them for the truth and dealing it out her way. No further words were exchanged after that.

Another two deliveries went down in the apartments and financial district. Lacey and Shaundi were making enemies left and right in those areas, chasing them out as soon as their sacks of Loa dust fell on their laps. Shaundi couldn't really speak for the apartment district though; lots of one minute men with a lot of weed to smoke, and maybe that was the problem to some of the tenants. Some felt entitled to a product they have adapted to for years. In essence, change was an insult to their way in spending their downtime…which was all the time. When they got back to the boat to make the final delivery, Lacey checked the map to the find the quickest route to the airport.

On the list, they were to meet a first time flight attendant named Carly Simons and deliver the last sack to her. There was only half a tank left in the boat they were riding in with an hour and ten minutes creeping on their coattails before the Coast Guards can wake up from their unexpected slumber. About a mile away from the airport, both got on land and hailed a cab for the rest of the way. Thanks to the bonus Shaundi got from the lawyers, she paid the fare and walked inside. Their new security changed things; with the death of Alderman Hughes and all. The guards at the terminals were basically strip-searching everyone before carrying their luggage and pressing on.

"Maybe if we get caught, Marco can vouch for us." Shaundi said.

"Doubt it. He doesn't want his back alley deals to go public." Lacey replied looking for an alternate route.

"There, Shaundi pointed to the emergency door, an employee access door, if we're lucky Carly should be up there."

"Let's move." Lacey replied with caution.

Getting up to the employee access door, one of the guards called someone who was wandering around the terminal. Lacey looked back; they caught a lucky break when the guard was referring to someone else. Shaundi opened the door and moved up the stairs to another floor of the airport. Two guards were walking downstairs. Lacey acted quickly when she grabbed one and threw him down the stairs while punching the other guard in the groin and grabbing his gun in a slick fashion, all before they realized who they were.

As they got on top they found themselves looking at a long, manila colored hallway with a female in uniform, sitting on the floor in the distance. Shaundi called for Carly's name and told her they had her delivery on schedule. Carly looked nervous when she was standing up to greet them. When Lacey handed the dust over, suddenly Carly was shot in the shoulder by a man in a flight attendant uniform. Lacey told Shaundi to look after her while she went after the shooter.

Making it to the other side and seeing the shooter making a break for it up to the roof, Lacey pulled out the gun she took and made a straight shot through his left shin. He was no more than twelve feet away from roof access and she didn't flinch once. He grunted loudly in pain as she walked up to him with gun in hand. "Fucking bitch" he called her, claiming he was on her side and one of Marco's contacts. She used her left foot to turn his body over so he could face her.

"Marco didn't mention about other contacts when he sent us for this run." Lacey said.

"I can prove it." He said holding on to his bleeding leg. "I have Marco's number just give me a sec to…find my phone.

Lacey placed her foot on his free hand, bending down to check his jacket pocket herself. A glock fell out; she gave him a smirk while he mentioned his phone was in his other pocket. She then kicked his gun away as he reached for his phone. After dialing the numbers, she pointed her gun at his forehead and told him to put the phone on speaker. To his luck, Marco spoke on the other line.

"H-hey its Henry, man; I got one of your delivery girls on some Loa dust."

"_Who is she?"_ Marco asked on the phone.

"I dunno some blonde."

"Marco, it's me. You didn't say you had a contact here taking the Loa. I thought this was going to Carly Simons."

"_A momentary lapse in customer names; Carly's not a flight attendant."_

"Then who is she?" Lacey asked suspiciously.

"She's someone who loves monster trucks." Henry replied grunting still.

"_Let it go, Lacey. Just get the money from him. You and Shaundi and get back to the prison. You have forty-two minutes left."_

"Don't worry sweetheart, we won't tell our leader who you are. Unless you're with the Saints, then you'll come to know him_ very_ soon." He smiled as he tossed his payment at her hand.

Shaundi pleaded with Carly to not call the authorities in what happened to her. She knew it wasn't their fault to begin with, but she was paranoid just the same. Shaundi knew how cops think; by Stilwater's society cops are generally regarded as street heroes and cleaning up crime. But on the dark side of that said society, half the cops at the city's precinct have dirty secrets the Mayor wouldn't want exploiting. Some are very good at covering their tracks while others were forced to step down, and pursue a career in either fast food, construction, or become male exotic dancers. Carly told her it was alright and that her shoulder only suffered a flesh wound. Then Shaundi caught a glimpse of a tattoo nicely crafted on the right side of her neck. She couldn't get the full view but it was enough to see something of a wild animal in red and black ink.

Much to her surprise, Shaundi complimented her tattoo and asked which shop she went to get it done. She was thinking in getting one on her rib cage. Lacey got back to the manila hallway and screamed for Shaundi to get away. Suddenly Carly got out a mac 10 from her uniform pocket and sprayed a barrage of bullets when Lacey got behind and snapped her firing wrist and landed a high kick to knock her down. When the dress shoes came off and the demure skirt ripped for some ass kicking, Lacey didn't have time to dance.

Carly ran up to her and got backhanded by the butt of Lacey's gun. Lacey then twirled Carly's body sideways and sent her a great distance before making a hasty retreat. As they got back to the main lobby, people left and right were rudely shoving past each other to get where they needed to be. It was an advantage both thought to get out of the airport unseen. Getting back to the boat, Shaundi was ecstatic about Lacey's moves on the flight attendant. She told her the reason behind it when they got back on water and drove hard back to the prison.

"That was far out, Lace!" Shaundi said. "What happened with that other guy?"

"They weren't flight attendants. The prick I chased, Henry, he's one of Marco's contacts in the airport, but the link doesn't stop there I'm afraid."

"What do you mean?"

"He mentioned Carly being someone of a monster truck fan. The Saints will meet their leader soon he said."

"Now that you mention it, I did find a tattoo on her neck. It was some wild animal head with red ink or something. Got any idea what that might be?"

"If it's a new gang, I haven't met them. I wouldn't worry too much." Lacey assured her.

"And if it is a new gang? We'll need the Saints for protection. They're the only weapon we have against any new gangs trying to roll into our city."

"We'll have a chat with Tyreese and Scott when time allows us. They run a small crew back where Kingdom Come Records used to be before it got blown to hell. They're good guys."

Both took turns steering the boat while one was taking their civilian clothes off and sporting the orange jumpsuit. As they got close, one Coast Guard boat floated by them with no security lights or anyone awake to drive the boat. They got scared for a second but they pressed on. They got back to the prison docks where Marco was sitting in his office, waiting patiently for the payment that was taken from the deliveries. Shaundi and Lacey carried all $30,000 in two separate bags that were also left for them when the job was done. Marco congratulated them for their skills in handling drug deals; he took a gamble on Lacey but it turned out fine in the end.

"Ladies, you just made a lot of injured and sick inmates on their way to recovery." Marco told them counting the cash.

"We ran into some trouble at the airport. Carly and uh, Shuandi stumbled before Lacey gave her the other name, Henry were acting strange."

"He and I are aware, and I promise you there will be no backlash coming on the two of you. Now if there is nothing else, he said calling out to two other guards in the area, take them back to their cells to rest. Good job again, ladies. I might call you next time for a drug run."

The prison was on lockdown around ten at night. When Shaundi reached her cell, she never thought her uncomfortable bunk bed felt so inviting. It didn't really hit her until her head hit the feathered pillow. Since it was almost completely dark in the cell she didn't realize Marley was back from what she needed to do. She didn't snore once; she had her thick meaty arm hanging over Shaundi's lower bunk though. As soon as Shaundi closed her eyes, Marley drowsily asked her how the drug run went. Shaundi made as much small talk as possible by telling her things went fine, and that the apartment district had a few clients who tried to get grabby with Lacey.

Long story short on that end, they were going to need slings and eye patches. Marley approved this tale, but then Shaundi was curious about what the Loa dust can do. She wasn't allowed to sample the product; surprisingly she wasn't detoxing from not using her special bong for so long. Marley only heard gossip from other inmates that the Loa was like a massage with all the trimmings while smoking top of the line weed at the same time. It was not much she told her, but it did have the same munchies effect like marijuana.

At that point, Shaundi couldn't wait to try it. Her shoulders and lower back were in desperate need for some tension relief with a side order spicy fries. Suddenly, when Marley was turning on her right side as she was making herself comfortable, Shaundi heard a painful bone breaking sound which led to her to asking if she was feeling alright. The trust meter was still in play, no matter what time of day it was, and she reminded Shaundi it was "need to know" kind of stuff. Personally, it was still too painful to say.

What Marley did say though was that she was an alright person and was going to be able to really teach her the ropes in how to survive on an island. Shaundi had the instinct to defend herself, but like she said it would only take her so far. The next few weeks were going to be a life changer. It was going to determine whether Shaundi can be recognized as a resourceful Saint, or just a pole jumper with no actual purpose in life. Speaking of purpose behind bars, Marley said holding out a roll of toilet paper and some bathroom soap, she said she liked to sit on a clean toilet seat when she drops a deuce or two in the morning. Yep, the next few weeks were going to change her in some shape or form Shaundi thought as she groveled out of bed to take care of the latrine deed.

A few weeks later, Shaundi was learning to adapt to the prison lifestyle. She was hitting it off well with Marley's close friends as well as forming a bit of a mutual friendship with Lacey when being tasked on drug runs. However on that side of things, they weren't distributing Loa anymore. Whoever was responsible for making the product wasn't too worried in making a name for them-selves.

Going out on drug runs whenever time called them for it really got a chance to know what was going down in Stilwater as well as the Saints activities. One rumor through an orgy grapevine when Shaundi delivered some crack on her campus was that purple safe houses were being made to rebuild ranks. They've already gotten a few people so far, and on the radio Jane Valderamma spoke of Johnny Gat getting business back where it needed to be in Steelport in a very destructive way. In other words, he was having a little too much fun with an AK-47 and a grenade launcher. Apart from Marty the security guard being a pervert to Shaundi, he was able to talk to her like an actual human being, all while helping Marley rebuilding her reputation from some deadbeats who were spreading rumors about her.

The Saints inside, namely Tyreese and Scott, were watching them closely as they were getting things done. It almost was feeling like a home for them instead of some horny nuthouse. However, Shaundi was still bummed with all their efforts they couldn't move to a more spacious cell block like the ones in A. On the plus side, they received extra shower privileges and snacks courtesy of the Warden. After a day in working out in the yard and feeling better physically, Shaundi got sent to the showers before heading out with Lacey again on another drug run, or so she thought. Keeping her soap close by and soaking under the freezing cold water, she got startled when another female inmate pinched her. A Latina in her mid-twenties was somehow friends with Lacey and didn't want to know the friendly hippie until now.

"Oh si, you're definitely working out." Natasha said.

"I work on my glutes when I feel like it." Shaundi replied feeling awkward.

"Name's Natasha; I'm a close friend of Lace's. She and I go way back to our stripping days."

"Oh, so you're the mysterious friend. Lace was telling me about a pole named "the frisky Mojito" because of some muy guapo man in his bachelor party; nice to meet ya."

"So you know where we going on our drug run tonight?" Natasha asked her.

"Not sure yet…wait, did you say "we"?"

"You're gaining quite a rep on this island. That kind of popularity is important for girls like us. When we stand in the lunch line, the guy standing behind us is keeping it in his pants. It's a small respect, but you don't get a whole lot out here."

"My cell mate's been making sure no one's whipping their dick out for me."

"Big Mar huh? How I wish to not be in her presence when she gets pissed off."

A week after Marley dealt with Corey over the kidnapping of her daughter, she finally told Shaundi the reason why her arms were sore. He was killed by her own hand she whispered to Natasha. Natasha knew Corey only once, and that was enough for her. No amount of anger management would have kept her in check if she had to deal with the wannabe gangsta herself. It was going to be pure old fashion Latina rage; something she brought up later on that night.

"It's not an easy thing to gain a man's attention as well as his respect at the same time. First, you have to find a balance between drunken _pendejos_ and average types who jerk off to porn sites."

"How do you find a balance there?" Shaundi chuckled.

"Ride 'em both. If one gets fresh you just break off their manhood and hope their hickeys don't turn them into psychopaths. It hasn't really happened to me as much as getting high end clients drunk and getting the 411 on Stilwater."

"Oh I get it. Lacey was a stripper, but she knew when to defend herself when flipping people over. You must be the one who holds her liquor and toss guys out after getting what you need from them."

"How many exotic dancers get what they want as opposed to what they deserve? One smile Shaundi; just one smile and some Jack Daniels. That's all you need. Tee 'N'Ay used to be a classy joint until the Carnales gang was imposing on our business. Especially a guy named Angelo Lopez."

"Five more minutes, ladies!" One of the security guards shouted from the background.

"We're meeting the Warden in his office tonight to get what we need on this run." Shaundi told her. "I can't tell you how much I want to be on the outside again after spending two weeks lifting crates with my cell mate. Say, are my arms growing muscles?"

After the showers, they were given their civilian gear and were escorted to the Warden's office. Walking through Cell Block B and hearing whistles going off around Natasha and how sexually appealing she was, one guy was merely asking for a beat down. A muscle bound Latino in one of the cells was making sexual gestures followed by an insult about a scar left on her arm she got as a teenager when her parents got shot in a drive-by shooting. He was the kind of juice head who loves his foreign fruit squeezed and bruised. Natasha walked over to him as he was acknowledged by the fact he actually got her attention.

She looked at him and asked if he was ever bashed with a sledgehammer. Shaundi was confused when all this was going on. The Latino guy had no idea what she was talking about and suddenly grabbed her to his cell bars. The guards did nothing to stop what was going to happen; another odd thing she noticed. He then called out to one of the guards to open his cell based on the fact he's been a good boy for the past six and a half months. That was when Natasha grabbed hold of his jumpsuit, and repeatedly bashed his head against the jail bars. Five times later, she told the guards they could open his cell, saying she was ready for what he had to offer. When she entered inside, no quarter was given for the Latino child molester it seemed. She curb stomped his dick, lifted him by his jumpsuit, carried and threw him out onto the middle of the block.

"Does Marley approve of this?" one guard asked Shaundi.

"I think she'll give Natasha a pass. I'll ask her later on tonight."

The Latino grabbed her face and picked her up with two hands, sending her stomach down to his knee and got kicked a few feet away from him. Natasha got back up and ducked when he tried to punch her and restrained him against his cell bars. She looked at him up and down and reminded him for the scum he was.

"It's no easy hitting someone who can fight back, isn't it? I know what you did to those two young boys, slitting the parents' throats and sending their RV up in smoke. Child molester; god is not going to reprieve you for the shit you've done. Now I'm going to throw your ass back where you belong, and walk out of here. Alright, chico?"

He nodded in agreement followed by crashing onto his bunk. The guards kept his cell door under lock and key once more. It was amazing for Shaundi to experience the kind of ass kicking Lacey and Marley can do, but Natasha too. Apart from feeling dry from not being able to smoke weed for so long she was seasoned to the violence in prison, and it was about time she thought. She had allies who can protect her as long as she did her part, which was hauling ass to the Warden's office thanks to the Cell Block beat down.

When they got there, he saw the whole shebang. Shaundi tried explaining the situation to him, but he made it clear there was no need for one. Their drug run was going to take place in two locations: one by the train station and one in a different section of the apartment district. He showed them the product they were going to deliver: LSD, vanilla ice along with some mixture that makes a person know how to dance like a chimpanzee on speed. The Coast guard was out on patrol and Marco wasn't able to put them to sleep due to a prison riot he had to deal with earlier in the day. He then pulled out a special edition of the Mcmanus sniper rifle with fifteen rounds of elephant tranquilizers.

As for transportation, the old speed boats were out of commission so the Warden called in for two separate speed boats in order to cover the deliveries at the exact same time. Both were thrilled about driving again, with Shaundi always wanting to test out a speed boat. They had their orders; all that was left was to head for the docks. However, the Warden asked Natasha to wait a moment. He was concerned about her temper.

"C'mon boss man. I'm burning moonlight." Nat told him.

"Ms. Martinez, he sighed, you are attending your anger management sessions right?"

"If you mean if I'm wasting my time going to some small circle, and have rapists and murderers talk about their feelings, then _hell_ no. I'd much rather be doing this than have a reason to be pissed off. It's less complicated."

"All I'm saying is that you need to keep your anger under control. You got, he said going through Nat's record, another two months before you're released on parole. Don't fuck this up."

"How's the nose, boss?"

"You're no comedian. Just deliver the product at your specified location and bring the money back to Marco. I don't want Stilwater P.D. calling me while I'm watching my football game. It's the playoffs for god's sake!"

In her own way, Natasha agreed to go from point A to B and call it a day when she got back. Her anger issues triggered when she went on a personal vendetta to find the killers of her parents. She was tumbling over dead ends and even pestered the Saints at one point to lend her a hand. That was when one of their Lieutenants, Dex gave her some advice as a way in getting information. Tee 'N' Ay was the place to make the men feel relaxed and drunk enough for them to divulge their secrets.

One night, she was about to get an answer when suddenly she was named a co-star next to Lacey at a welcome home party for one of Stilwater's war heroes. Things went down which led to the vet getting Lacey's number, but landing both of them in jail for assault. She was a driven individual who didn't take smack talk from anybody. Lap dances turned to interrogations, but she knew how to play it cool without her boss knowing. She was never able to find out who the shooters were. She didn't give up though.

Shaundi got on one of the boats and felt like she was in complete control. That was until a fear set in that she couldn't swim. One of Marco's co-workers told her driving a speed boat was like riding a bike; except in this case if you fall possessed bodies of shot up escapees will take the living by their ankles, and have them join them as one of their own. She gave him a look as if he was on something. It turned out he was joking the whole time and told her to check the Mcmanus rifle to see if it was locked and loaded before heading out.

Her destination was meeting one customer at the train station, sitting on a burgundy bench with money in hand for his LSD. She drove out to sea and did her best to avoid guard lights. Around a mile or two away from the prison's jurisdiction, she stopped her boat and steadied her rifle to take out the first Coast Guard. She managed to get one right in the guard's lower stomach while struggling to steady another shot on the second man commandeering the boat. Once both were taken out, she rode out further until she was close to one of the docks a few miles away from her campus.

She got on shore and suddenly two other boats were pressing closer to her location. Luckily, there was a conveniently placed tarp she threw over the boat so none would be the wiser. Time was not so much of an issue anymore due to the elephant tranquilizers packing a huge punch to the human membrane. She was able to take her time getting to the train station near the Barrios. Upgrades for delivery purposes were handy as well: knapsacks carrying the Loa dust turned to sturdy backpacks with many different pockets.

With only five blocks left, she was struck in the head by another flashback of her Spring Break bust. The past few weeks the flashbacks haven't been frequent; sometimes she would get playbacks to the same visions of being called a "junkie whore" and getting stick in the neck by whatever knocked her out. This time she was greeted with another character that was pulling her body out from the street. It was a close call too; another eleven seconds and a city bus would have made her flatter and messier than the Freckle Bitches kids' meal. She sort of recognized the guy's voice. He sounded high as hell, but one of the few guys she was genuine friends with and no strings attached. The name was still lost though. When she opened her eyes she got up to the train station and went up the steel stairs to find a burgundy bench. She saw someone with his hoody zippered all the way up his nose with both arms hugging tightly around his torso.

"What's up stranger?" Shaundi called on the customer as she walked up to him. "Got your delivery," she continued before her left arm was grabbed. "Take it easy, man. I'm not some pig in a blueberry blanket that owns the law."

"J-j-j-j, the customer uttered shivering before looking up at her, junkie whore…"

After dealing with three boats filled with heavy sleepers to complete the "lost at sea" regiment, Natasha made her way to the Apartments to deliver the vanilla ice. Apartment 9C was the delivery point. With product checked and properly placed in her backpack, she knocked the tenant's door to only find herself smelling smoke that was creeping up from the door. It opened and a burst of marijuana smoke burst in her face, causing her to cough profusely. The tenant apologized for his crude bedside manner and kept apologizing when he was about to grab the product. Natasha grabbed his shirt and said payment was due for the price of dancing like a monkey. The guy tenant didn't take too kindly to that insult, but she wasn't in the mood to play around. He threw the bag to the side followed by getting his head slammed on the pavement when she grabbed both of his ankles and had him hanging over his three story apartment.

"Take it easy lady! I get testy when I'm lit as fuck; nothin' personal." He went on in fear.

"Payment's $320 for the ice; I'll get it myself if you tell me where you keep your _dinero_."

"That's rent money. I can't give that away! I already got an eviction notice from my shit head of a landlord."

"Your problem not mines. My arm's getting tired so what's it going to be?"

"Relax, an unfamiliar voice spoke from the background, I know this kid. He'll pay his dues."

"Who the hell are you?" She asked him as a wad of cash landed in her free hand.

"I'm someone who helps this city from behind the scenes. Partying hard, Mr. Flounder?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Camden sir."

He asked Natasha to pull him back onto solid earth after being assured the total payment for the ice was all rolled up nicely. Once he was on his two feet, he was sent head first back into his hazy apartment courtesy of Natasha's upper arm strength. Jason Camden was at it again; this time with the more grateful sorts who led him on an adrenaline filled rooftop chase followed by two eyes stinging from sugar. He wanted to talk her about a vital event that took place in her life. She didn't want to hear it, but thanked him for compensating for Flounder's stupidity. That was when he brought up Eric and Carmella Martinez, and the possibility for some retribution on their deaths. She gave him seven minutes of her time to hear if what Jason had to say was either truthful or bullshit.

Shaundi's head went nuts as she was brought back to the "junkie whore" insult. For the moment, she might've found her guy. His hood was up and looked like he was colder than the outside temperature. Her eyes set upon a college friend of hers named Mikey. She didn't want to believe the fact he drugged her on the train, and somehow ended up in the middle of the street. Mikey was a lot of things when it came to being a party animal, but shooting up random strangers on some lonesome train, not his style she thought. He used to work at an arcade called Geronimo's.

"Mikey, what's wrong with you man?" She asked sitting next to him.

"Sh-sh-sh-Shaundi; it's been like an eternity, spirit bird. I know; I look like shit. You remember Mel?"

"Who's Mel?"

"You know the drug mule. He acts shy whenever he's around you and takes off if you got too close."

"The only guy I can't sleep with. He's cool though; gets to see the world and everything. Mike, earlier you called me a junkie whore. I don't want to accuse you, but."

"Oh, I uh…felt your energy as you walked towards me. Some ass hole just left you on the street; took off before I recognized him. I was in the neighborhood so I carried you back to my house. It must've been some Spring Break."

"This ass hole, did he say anything before taking off or just ran when he saw you?"

"Just zip lined out of the area like he was superman or some shit. I see you got my LSD. Mel gave me some downers a few weeks back, but I never took 'em. Shaundi, he said putting both his hands on her shoulders, I didn't have to pay him. What if those pills belonged to someone else? I'm going to jail."

"Ugh don't do this now." Shaundi told him.

"No, no I'm going to No Man's Land. That's what they call it on the island. I should bury them somewhere. That's it; I'll bury them." He panicked as he got up and power walked away from the bench.

She became frustrated to Mikey's reluctance. It was one of his character flaws: lack of responsibility. He took anti-depressants for some time after his girlfriend OD'd on him and lost his job at the arcade. Since then, Shaundi visited him whenever she could to see how he was holding up, and much to her lack of surprise, he didn't get any better. He was shivering more than usual, caressing his entire body as he walked to get away from train noise. Shaundi looked at her feet where her delivery used to be; he took it without her knowing so she got up and went after him.

Natasha and Jason took a walk around the neighborhood. Both stopped at a chicken joint for some quality food to break the mold of prison meals that processes a nasty way in the human stomach. She was suspicious as to why he was buying her food and why she felt the incentive to follow him, but at this day and age she would take a free meal than to shit bricks from stale mystery meat. Jason tried to get to know her background and what was driving her to find some closure in her life after her parents' death. When that didn't work, she asked a question of her own as to whom he was. At first she was under the impression he was a cop, and was raring to arrest her from escaping prison.

He made a passive retort that he just had a good memory, namely the names of her parents, Eric and Carmella and found an anonymous tip in where to find the shooters. With suspicion still set in her mind, she took the piece of paper he handed out and took a gander at its contents. It was once a business card from Legal Lee. When she looked at the back it contained an address to a trailer park near the 312 area of the city. It didn't have the names of the shooters, but he told her they used to be Vice Kings that dropped their flags as soon as their leader left the country, went into witness protection living under new aliases. She then told him she was a convict, working a job with details she had no intention in telling Jason about. That was when it slipped her mind about the apartment debacle with a drugged up Flounder.

"There's something else. Word around the street is there's going to be a breakout soon at your prison next week. I don't know what day it's happening, and I don't know how it's going down. A majority of your jail peers are the 3rd Street Saints. Two dozen of them are planned to be busted out."

"I know about the Saints. What's this have to do with me?" She asked.

"In all honesty, an island prison is virtually impossible to escape from. Many have tried, and many of their corpses become one with the ocean. I am asking you to stay in your cell when all this is going down. If you lay low in your cell, the next day I'll come bail you out. No strings attached; what you do with that tip is up to you."

"So you're not a cop, and you've never been in a gang before. How can I be sure I'll be going free?"

"Best thing about Stilwater, you can have friends from many sneaky corners. They're good on information as I'm sure your profession has achieved. I've seen you dance; top of the line stuff." Jason went on as he drank his soda. "I'll get out of your hair."

Suddenly, Natasha made a claim that he had never been to Tee 'N'Ay which led her to believe he was part of some organization. If nothing else he was over his head negotiating with a fully capable ex-stripper. Before he left, he told her he was just an average citizen helping those in need, and has a reputation in keeping young men and ladies away from gangs. She turned back to the crumpled up card and put it in the bottom of her shoe so it wouldn't get lost in her civilian clothes. Making her way back to the docks she thought about Jason's open window to her and considered taking it if he stayed true to his word, but like any one with wishful thinking there was a 50/50 chance of her staying in prison for the remainder of sentence. It was alright though she thought; the charges were only based on aggravated assault and that sentenced both her and Lacey to four months in prison. The judge carried the final say out two months prior. She would wait if she had to.

As for Shaundi, she was getting impatient on Mikey's continuous reluctance on his problems. Not to mention lack of payment for the drugs he took. Both were chasing one another on a sidewalk until Mikey fell down and the product was splattered all over the ground. She caught up and thought about talking him down about what the hell he was doing with his life, but seeing him in that position was like the frat parties she used to go to. There would always be crack, Doritos; even a great time was all over her face from the night before. It would have made her a hypocrite. Suddenly, he was bawling in his self-pity and that told her to help him up. She stressed to him he needed professional help with his personal problems because the condition he was in wasn't healthy.

"Thanks Shaundi." He said hanging onto her left shoulder. "You're always looking after me. That's what my ex didn't understand. She never saw me more than just a four inch cock that never has enough money for the Olive Garden."

"Look, as a friend I am dead ass serious about you getting help. Who's going to chase away the juice heads that harass me on campus, she asked with Mikey giving a smirk, just kidding."

"I know spirit bird. Ok, he replied feeling his pockets, I have the payment somewhere. Ah! Here we go. I didn't lose it this time."

"I thought you were broke."

"Yeah...I kind of took some rent money from my older brother without him knowing about it. But from here on, I am going to get clean, and it's all because of you."

The night was long, and the Warden was getting impatient on the results of his two drug deliveries. Luckily, most of his mental distress was relieved when he saw the money, and congratulated them both on a job well done. While they were being escorted back to their cells, Natasha wanted to talk to Shaundi in private. One of the guards escorting was in a pissed off mood, and didn't feel like offering small privileges to convicts who think just because they were doing the Warden's dirty work for the greater good of Stilwater, they should be given free reign. Marley was inside the infirmary helping a few other convicts making the place look spotless when it was officially remade.

One guard thought it would be a good idea to push Shaundi in to help speed things along while getting separated from her newfound acquaintance. She walked up to Marley while she saw her getting pushed in, saying he was in desperate need of some weed, or since Marley knew the guard to finally admit to himself his fiancée was cheating on him with some forty year old Wall Street giant in New York. Apart from cleaning up the floors with a toothbrush, good news softened the blow of manual labor. Since the Warden was pleased by the results of the drug runs he was feeling good enough to authorize visitation rights to Marley in seeing her daughter. She was ecstatic and out of nowhere was trying her best to make Shaundi disabled by hugging her tightly.

Things were starting shape up, and it was all thanks to Shaundi she told her. Before meeting her, Marley was nothing more than an intimidating shadow to convicts who have invaded her privacy, let alone pick pocketing jell-0 whenever she wasn't looking. On that front, bodies got sent to the infirmary and were being fed through tubes. Marley had her own reasons for being in prison in the first place. Over the course a six weeks her trust meter was slowly going up. Having good relations with Tyreese and Scott was a nice bonus as well; because of them she was getting updates as to how Cassie was doing.

It was the simple things such as a daughter's well-being that kept her sane, while to some it made her pull some punches on convicts who deserved them. The following week, rumors were circulating around the prison blocks about a certain breakout going to happen towards the middle of July. July 4th was around the corner, and the island prison gets a pretty decent view of the fireworks exploding all around the city. The fourth of July was the day Marley was called over to the visiting area as she sat eagerly for Cassie to arrive. However, it was not totally without an arsenal present if things went south for certain loved ones. There were whispers amongst the guards, Marty included, about the prison break and were taking every possible precaution to prevent it from coming to pass. But those rumors flew in over Marley's head as soon as Cassie stepped in. She smiled and stood up; both embraced each other for about a good minute before sitting down and catching up on stuff.

"How you been, mama?" Cassie asked her holding her hands.

"I'm hustling like I always do. How're you doing out there, baby girl?"

"A small crew of Saints introduced me to a new friend a few weeks back. Her name's Darlene, says she was Tyreese's sister. She's pretty cool, even showed me some college brochures from upstate New York and Oklahoma."

"That's really great. I never thought I was going to see you again. You're growing up to be a beautiful young lady." Marley praised her.

"Thanks. I just hope guys see that when I go to High School in the fall. You know how men like their women: skanky."

"Hey, you watch your mouth. You should be thanking your lucky stars you not losing weight. Meat on your bones is a good thing; look at me."

"I know, mama. I'm just thinking out loud." Cassie replied.

With the Saints having their own way in getting around the prison, there was a place where they could smoke blunts and have a getaway boat for food pick up to get away from the processed shit taxpayers' money makes. Shaundi, Natasha, and Lacey were invited to join them for a little party as a prelude to the possibility of escaping the island and being free. In fact, since they were located in an old bunker leading out to the ocean the Warden and the other guards were locking down doors more often, filling up cell walls with cement, even putting the Coast Guard on graveyard shifts which was funny in Shaundi and Tyreese's eyes since all they've been doing was sleeping on the job. Everybody was socializing while others were letting loose after smoking some potent Loa dust. Some of the convicts said the drug was so good it was going to make a mint once it makes an official hit amongst the small time suppliers in the city.

The Jailbird Trio, or Shaundi, Natasha and Lacey, were living it up and have really gotten to know one another over the past week eating together and doing laundry. Natasha and Lacey already knew each other and were once top of the line pussy teasers at Tee 'N' Ay. Their stage names were Selina and Olga; plain names Shaundi brought up, but it was the way they worked the poles made of steel and lying in wait in the corduroys of thousands of horny men. Natasha was driving herself nuts in not knowing how Shaundi got landed in prison. Marley gave her a few details, but not enough for an engaging tale from the Stilwater hippie. Lacey was curious as well. Then suddenly, one of the Saints came back scoring big from Freckle Bitches and was giving everyone food.

"Are you hungry ladies? Get them while it's hot!" Scott said getting his food.

"I am famished." Lacey said.

"It's happening isn't it? What the source told you about us getting free?" Shaundi asked Natasha.

"You ask me I think the guy was in way over his _cabeza_. I'll tell you later."

Scoring two large fries with mustard was one thing, namely Lacey had the sticky fingers to nab a double whopper with all the trimmings. As for the Saints, they were all over the other food like Johnny Gat shooting up the Vice King's top enforcer. It was all coming back to her Shaundi said; not only what happened to her on the train; that much she kept to herself for the time being. It was how she had fun in Steelport: the Patriarch of the future. She said the city was like Stilwater but it had more singular purposes when it came to partying and living life. It was a party city, or Bangkok's abusive father to be more specific.

You could get lost and no one will give a damn if you did. The cops there were stricter as they chased down college kids waving prosthetic dildos in the wind, and having unprotected sex in cars. However when it came to Spring Break, everyone was in on it. Buildings lit up like Christmas trees with thirty blocks filled with drinking competitions, swimming, and getting chased by colorful mascots with language even more colorful than Stilwater. Shaundi remembered arriving incognito with a friend and found them-selves racing in two separate golf carts. It was a blast to them. Each road they raced around had speeding cars flying and crashing into each other all over the place.

She and her friend were still pretty much sober at the time, but all that changed once they came across a swag pad to make it look like a car washing joint. It was ran by a businessman/auto-tuned pimp/ladies' man in every sense of the word while donning a Rhinestone Z on his fedora hat; Zimos was his name. He kept his carwash open like a candy store of smoking and otherworldly goodies to the college kids of both Stilwater and his city. There were swimming pools filled with chocolate pudding and super soaker wielding freaks shooting each other while doing backflips across the wash's lot. Zimos's partner in chaos activities, Viola DeWinter, ran a special kind of game for "cops and robbers."

It was formatted to be like a scavenger hunt/ hide and seek while wielding a strange weapon that makes the cops do moves like Michael Jackson. Shaundi played it for a good two hours before having a hankering for some serious doobage. That led to taking her to some crazy places like wrestling mascots and flying in space just by raising her arms. Since she was the party girl type, she went from smoking for a good hour and a half. She and her friend decided to go dancing. There was a rave going on at Technically Legal: a strip joint owned by one of the DeWinter sisters.

As soon as they entered the place their ears were dancing to the beat of Jennifer Lopez's song "Get right" remix featuring Fabolous. The club was jamming it up with building trembling beats and everyone had a good time. Feeling lit, Shaundi decided to join in though she had two left feet and wouldn't care regardless. She found a few willing guys and they cranked up the excitement way up for a DJ to give praise to her for making Spring Break one spicy affair. Some applauded for her dancing with two college seniors who had girlfriends staring at them from the crowd, while others didn't really care at all.

Then another song really sent the club ablaze; a song called "Angel of Darkness." She took center stage when that was playing, and took it a step further grabbing the two seniors as they danced without a care in the world. She then was telling Lacey and Nat about how their girlfriends wanted to start a fight, but that ended with her ducking and one of the guys getting decked in the face. The DJ was getting stressed; he cut the music off and told everyone to calm the fuck down if they knew what was good for them. Suddenly, the drunk and pissed off club goers rebelled against the dreadlocked DJ and started bum rushing him almost out of the building.

Shaundi didn't know what she was doing, but she pulled him out of the club and hailed a cab before the crowd got to them. Believe you me she said telling the story, there were many raging vaginas, both female and male who wanted her head on a plate. It was like they had never seen a hippie who danced better than the typical college socialite. She couldn't remember the entire conversation escaping the club; just lots of exhaling leading to some laughing. Last thing she remembered about him was his name: Veteran Child, and that he was planning on moving to Stilwater soon to start his own music store.

The Spring Break bonanza was a three day weekend affair. The friend she came with the first night was nowhere to be found. She was broke and had no way in getting a flight back to Stilwater. All she had on her were cigarettes, peach bubblegum, and a bong she made herself. However, when she looked in her back pocket she found a piece of paper with a phone number to DJ Veteran Child. She didn't see why not at the time so she gave him a ring if he was up and about. On the last night, the Steelport Police Department was fed up with all the craziness and how college kids partied, making Mardi Gras a cheap version of Disneyland.

"I've been to Steelport before. I call it the Las Vegas for the party induced insane. Their chicken wings are amazing." Nat told the trio.

"This Veteran Child seemed like a good guy, getting you out of jam like that." Lacey said.

"He did leave a lasting impression that night. I never heard of DJ's waving guns before. He took charge, if not for a few seconds against a raging crowd." Shaundi replied.

"You sleep with him?" Nat asked before getting nudged by Lace. "What? You can learn a lot about a man by the way he fucks under the covers, and I've learned plenty. At Tee 'N' Ay I knew which losers to throw out, and ones to keep."

"You mean the ones who paid more?" Lace asked her.

"Damn straight, _Hermana_."

"Who knows? Maybe if we escape from this place I'll pay him a visit; even check out his new music digs. Alright enough about me; how'd you and Nat end up in the joint anyway?"

"You can ask Ms. Russian over here. Her jealousy got the better of her."

"I was looking for an explanation. Tina got what she deserved." Lacey said.

"Uh-huh." Nat replied in disbelief. "Chica, you need to forget about Tina and douchebag Doug. They belong together in a hospital. Besides, remember that good looking Asian guy who came home from the war? I saw the way he was eyeing you."

"Oh please. He's friends with Johnny Gat. They have no taste in women so they try many different kinds."

"Now who's being modest? I know a genuine smile when I see one. Perhaps you should pay him a conjugal visit." She went on as Lace looked away in embarrassment. "Aha! You know I'm right; your face turning red and shit."

"I think I'm going to love these ladies." Shaundi said to herself. "Now if I can just get Marley to like Natasha at least."

Getting reunited with Cassie made Marley as happy as she's ever been. Cassie spoke of how Ultor was coming out with a new line of handbags and that Darlene was planning to take her shopping along with her aunt over the weekend. Marley still had four years left on her sentence after fending off VK drive by shootings that were circling around her home. This was back when Benjamin King was still in charge; his associates on the other hand wanted to take things into their own hands. The shootings were caused by newly appointed members who loved using guns as a way of being feared.

Marley defended both herself and Cassie by using a legally owned grenade launcher. With it, she was offing yellow cars all around the neighborhood. Her husband, Nelson, came to the rescue after dealing with about thirty-seven VK vehicles who were all attempting to meet their kidnapping quota. Nelson rammed one VK truck off the road and everyone hauled ass out of the area before any more showed up. Eventually, about six more cars were ganging up on them with Mac 10's blazing on the outside when the Saints drove passed Marley and her family. As they were dealing with the pursuers, Nelson unfortunately caught two bullets to the chest, forcing him to pull over.

Tensions and feelings were all over the place; then in an instant Marley pulled Cassie away from the truck and it exploded out of nowhere. At the time Marley thought with the sympathy speech followed by a grueling monologue to the court about how the Vice Kings were out of control in kidnapping women, and had to be put away for life behind bars. After she made her case, the judge brought out the ugly truth when he told her the charges she committed against the good of Stilwater. One of the VK vehicles she blew up with the grenade launcher had about five, twelve year old girls in the backseat, with two drivers who had strong connections to the late Alderman Hughes. The court reviled her, and named her a murderer of children.

She was taken to the island prison where she was originally going to spend 25 to life, but had her sentence reduced when the Warden was looking over her charges. Justice wasn't served for the innocent girls who got blown up, but he made it justifiable that Marley had no clue they had children in their cars while the shootings were taking place. Cassie was nine when she was taken away. In the end, she lost guardianship of her daughter, and anything attached to her name was wiped off the list. At this moment, the past meant nothing to her except the fact she was with Cassie who was growing up the right way. Cassie revealed to her on how she was kidnapped at fourteen. A few VK exiles managed to evade the cops as they were doing a city-wide spread to arrest the remainder of King's crew.

When things settled down, they came out of the dark and started their kidnappings again. She couldn't remember all the details; just the fact Corey, the mastermind behind the girl napping charade, preferred touching obese girls last. However, Cassie was no slouch; both her parents taught her how to defend herself. For two days she was sitting in the dark with other frightened pre-teens; she kept wondering how she was going to survive. Not only that, she was hungry, and demonstrated that feeling when she damn near bit one of the VK's ears off and knocked out the other members as well with nothing but her fists.

She called the police right away and was put in protective custody until she was released under Darlene's supervision. "I'm so proud of you, baby girl." Marley said hugging her, but the tender moment abruptly paused when Marty made the announcement that visitation was over. He ordered the inmates to say goodbye to their loved ones. All but Marley and Cassie remained still; Marty walked over and told them the intimate time was over. When she blatantly ignored him, things escalated when he grabbed Cassie by her right arm and tried forcing her to leave. Marley acted quickly when she pushed Marty away and five other guards came rushing down and kept her separated from her daughter. Marty ordered the two door guards to escort her off the island. Fighting them wasn't going to be a help considering both the Coast Guard and jail personnel were feeling very trigger happy lately with the rumors of the breakout happening.

"Don't try to fight this, Mar. High tide's coming tonight; I don't want Cassie falling off the boat." He told her.

"I wasn't done talking to her." She replied with hostility.

"Oh I think you were. Marley, you know how paranoid the Warden gets when there's a breakout rumored. This is for your safety. We can't risk any inmate, Saint or otherwise, to escape the island. Look, I was going to wait until he made his announcement later tonight, but after me seeing you with your daughter the suspense is making quiver. Uh, gentlemen could you give her some space please?" He asked the guards as they were moving away.

"Damn Marty, I never thought you'd grow a spine on me."

"The Warden is willing to release _some _inmates who don't participate in the breakout. If you stay in your cell, the next day I'll see to it you will get full custody of Cassie. It's a win-win in your case; you get reunited with your family and we don't ever see you again because quite frankly, you're a frightening woman."

"What's the catch here?" She asked.

"This is Stilwater. Nothing evil or straight criminal gets locked away forever. Just stay in your cell, Marley. It'll be a lot easier believe me."

Two guards were ordered to escort her back to her cell. She got Marty's attention when she asked about Shaundi and if she'll be released along with her. All he said as long as she kept her legs closed as well as her mouth, the Warden might consider it. Marley knew for a fact he will consider it if he wanted his nose kept straight and not bleeding. As soon as she was out of sight and out of his hair, Marty took out his cell phone and dialed an unknown number.

Lacey and Natasha's backstories as to how they got landed in prison were intertwined, considering both had a huge part to play. However, that part started out with a small group of other exotic dancers at Tee 'N' Ay. It was a welcome home party for a war veteran named Tommy Kwong. Johnny Gat and a few Saints threw the entire thing; a joyous occasion had by all. After all, you know what they say: It's not a party until something gets beaten to death and the cops are slip and sliding on glitter to arrest the house breakers.

Selina and Olga, their stage names, were two of the top quality strippers of the entire city. They knew how to work every curve, every angle, and secretly knew how to get what they want to feel in control. Out of the two, Natasha was the feistiest one. However, the cause of them going to prison was Lacey's domain. Her ex-boyfriend, Doug was a slick son of a bitch. She found him outside the club getting it on with one of the other girls, Tina. Long story short, concrete was cracked as Lacey got ahold of Tina and tossed her out onto the street.

Everyone surrounded them as this was going on. When Doug saw this and decided to hit back, Tommy wanted to step in and help her out. Suddenly, Natasha jumped over his head and partook in the double beat down against both Doug and Tina. Their fights ended when the cops broke through the crowd, and attempted to put Nat and Lacey in handcuffs. That night, things got out of control, but both learned how to control their anger since then; Natasha most of all. Shaundi sympathized with what Lacey had to do. It was one of the reasons why she had so many exes; relationships were overrated. In Stilwater, you can do what you want without any severe repercussions. Well without getting caught anyway.

39


	4. Chapter 3: Angels roam free

Chapter 3

Angels roam free

With the middle of July fast approaching, guards were gearing up and doing construction around the outside walkways on the island, putting turret guns on the prison's defensive perimeters to keep anyone from attempting a rescue mission. Sounds of tools banging, keeping all four Cell Blocks locked down and had the inmates move at linear intervals to eat or work on something else. It was getting way too noisy for Shaundi and Marley. Both were scheduled for lunch at the cafeteria where it was the least noisy, and to assist a very maternal inmate in baking her snicker doodles. When they got to meet her for the first time, Shaundi knew she recognized her from somewhere. She even helped the Saints out a couple times. Her name was Laura.

"Sup sugar mama?" Shaundi said to her.

"Holy moly, I thought that was you. How are tricks, honey?"

"Crazy time in Steelport for Spring Break; this is Marley."

"Heard about you home girl. Fist me." Laura said as she extended her left fist, with Marley looking at her funny. "Sorry, I'm still learning the lingo from my colored friends."

"Don't mind her way of communicating. She may be anti-social but she is a pro at selling product in the suburban neighborhoods. She makes cookies too."

"Are you doing okay here Laura?" Marley asked as Laura was scurrying around for kitchen supplies and talking to herself. "She's freaking me out a little bit."

"She's harmless I swear. Whenever she feels the urge to strangle her son for crashing her car for the seventh time, she gets like this. Trust me, letting him stare at my chest while going joyriding on a hazy Friday night was the last straw; doubt she remembers that though." Shaundi replied.

"Feel free to some of my already made chocolate chips deluxe. It's on a plate next to the oven!" Laura said looking for another cookie sheet.

As soon as Marley took off the plastic wrap covering the cookies, Laura immediately stopped what she was doing and shouted at her to not touch the cookies under the plastic, but rather the ones covered in aluminum foil. Shaundi got curious after Laura said the cookies under the plastic were for a special project she had planned for the Warden and many of his top security guards. Marley wanted to know what was wrong with the snicker doodles and that she couldn't have one. Laura explained it by asking them a question if they had ever stood next to Mt. Vesuvius just as it was about to erupt. Then she put it in plainer terms once she found her second cookie sheet and calmed down.

Her question was then asked if either Shaundi or Marley ever had bad Mexican food. Both nodded as Marley pointed out to never have a pepper stake taco with Cherry soda. Otherwise four walls, a toilet and an air freshener were going to be your best friends. Laura agreed and integrated the same effect for her famous snicker doodles. Shaundi brought up once again her cookies are unparalleled to any rinky-dink bakery ran by Happy Enrico.

"Now I don't like to brag. I just like making taste buds happy, no matter where they're from. Hence the reason I'm here." Laura said putting more cookie dough onto the sheet.

"Yeah, that's another thing. You're not wearing an orange jumpsuit." Marley brought up.

"That's odd. You usually cover your tracks when it comes to dealing. What happened?"

"Well, I slipped. My freaking deadbeat of a son trashed my rental car after I ahem…experimented one of those cookies on him. He was on the toilet for about a month; thought it would finally teach him he's not one of those pasty white guys in the Westside Rollerz."

"Sometimes a belt solves all your problems." Marley said.

"Could if I had one; my ex-husband took half of my house's assets in the divorce. But the dumb bastard didn't think to take my family's inheritance; no sir-ee bub. Long story short, I crashed his "study party" at his friend's house and found out he was getting his wee-wee sucked by a forty-year old tramp. I should know since the lady was in my ceramics class. I've been living on the D.L. ever since."

"See why I love her style?" Shaundi said to Marley.

"Oh my lord, these chocolate chip cookies are like sex in my mouth."

From the perspective of the guards outside the kitchen and from the knowledge of the Warden, Shaundi and Marley were tasked to help Laura with her baking while the reality of the situation differed. Laura was only on the inside for a couple days, and knew full well about the breakout the prison personnel were working tirelessly to prevent. She thought she owed it to the Saints for helping her on special drug runs, acknowledging a certain young Saint known as "playa." Good boy she told them, but didn't talk a whole lot. Her real intention was to take the batch of snicker doodles she made under the plastic wrap, and triple the amount so she could give them to all the security guards the day before the breakout was about to take place.

Many of them would be clawing at the bathroom stalls they wouldn't have time to detain escapees. The captured Saints in particular would escape in the confusion. How the actual "getting out" part was going to go down, she couldn't say; just that she hoped they were very good swimmers. As Marley and Laura got to know one another, Shaundi brought up Loa dust and what she knew about it. Laura told her it was definitely not made in the U.S. but it was making a mint in the Caribbean Islands and around Jamaica.

In the old times, the Loa were once a race of Shamans who were initiated to be trained and bred without ears. It all had to do with putting oneself in a mental state. These Shamans were able to see the future by hallucinogenic patterns that were as vibrant and real as if they were actually happening. The dust was making rounds in Stilwater before she decided to lay low. It was nothing major; just within the same rhythm as cocaine.

Whoever was selling the supply from behind the scenes was making a solid first impression. Another side effect of the Loa was that if induced too much, the effects will be in the same league as smoking regular weed. You'll be high as a kite, and hungry as hell. Freedom for Shaundi was a risk she was willing to take if the breakout went down, but she was thinking long term in getting her own little drug business back up and running. The farm outside her campus was probably not doing so hot she thought. Towards the end of their kitchen shift, there were already four dozen cookies ready to make IBS seem like the flu.

Laura wanted the Saints to go free for reasons that they were the only people who really knew how to run Stilwater; vigilantes for the people she said. Shaundi asked her if she was going to join them in the breakout. She refused; for some strange reason she wanted to stay back and make a difference on the island prison and would be able send anonymous tips and chocolate chip cookies that would put Nestle out of business. She knew she was no Saint herself, but as a Stilwater citizen she wanted to make big contributions. Both wished her good luck.

On the eve of the breakout, Shaundi, Lacey and Natasha were out in the yard playing basketball with the male inmates. Marley was tasked to help the security guards put the finishing touches on their defensive placements around the island. While doing turret detail, she kept thinking about Cassie, but at the same time her pride. Ever since she earned her rep inside no guard or inmate would dare cross the line with her. Most left her alone until Marty grew a pair and stepped up after visitation was over.

He was supervising the work, which was another surprise in her eyes. He was more of a tazer carrying type rather than a "take a bullet for the greater good" type. Something smelled wrong in the air; she felt the tension from guards with high powered rifles that seemed pointing in her direction rather than any incoming signs for the breakout to happen. Marty walked up to her as she was lifting ammo caches and placing them next to the turrets.

"This all looks excessive. There's something Joey's not telling us about this breakout. You think the Saints over at the Row will plan a siege on this place?"

"You want to ask Joey or should I do it?" Marley asked.

"Naw it's just…I'm really uncomfortable around guns. It'd be unfortunate to hear them go off in the middle of the night. We're not exactly Fort Knox you know?"

"Is there something you want, man? I'm busy here."

"Just checking up on you; I didn't mean to push your daughter to leave. I was just following orders."

"If guns weren't pointed at me everywhere, I'd have tossed you over the edge by now. But I decided I'm going to stay in my cell. I just want to be with my daughter."

"You'd be wise to do that. Lots of kids in our city grow up without mothers or fathers. I'll uh…let you get back to it."

Out in the yard, the Jailbird Trio were scoring baskets with Tyreese and Scott's crew while the other inmates were sitting it out for the moment. Shaundi couldn't shoot a basket to save her life; Nat was teaching her how while Lacey was doing free throws. They were becoming fast friends in an unfriendly environment; even talked about what they were going to do when they get out. Nat had some personal business to deal with on her own; Lacey knew this. Shaundi was going to do a couple things: shower, smoke from her favorite bong again, and go play some ski-ball at the arcade.

It was the simple things for a hippie to do on her down time. As for Lacey, she knew she was out of the job after the Tee 'N' Ay fiasco with Doug and Tina. She was going to try and apply at Freckle Bitches until she could get back on her feet. Scott called all three of them with Laura's cookies in hand. Shaundi panicked and told them not to eat the snicker doodles. Scott said he was already told the few he took in particular were the good kind. She breathed a sigh a relief and bit into one of the cookies.

"Wow, Natasha said tasting the chocolate, that Martha Stewart clone knows how to bake. What? I used to watch her as a kid."

"I agree. She needs to send us the recipe for these." Lacey said.

"Is she escaping with us, Shaun?" Scott asked. "We could sure use her as our personal chef."

"She wants to stay behind as a network for drug deals and baked goods. I got to hand it to her; she's got more balls than me. Where's Ty?"

"He's looking for ways to break into the armory. Without guns, we ain't getting out clean."

"It feels so invigorating; escaping from No Man's Land and back into the industrial trash heap that is Stilwater."

"I miss the shitty traffic and the trailer park prostitution; our city is fun as all hell." Nat said.

"What could be better?" Shaundi asked before P.A. came on.

"_Attention Stilwater inmates. Rumors have been swirling around the prison about a breakout happening tomorrow evening. Now you all know the stories about our prison: anyone who leaps over the gate will be shot on site. Those who tried lay dormant beneath the ocean as rotten food for the sharks. As far as I'm concerned, there are those who have been serving their time the right way without making too many scenes. So my proposal to you is this: anyone who is not serving 25 to life and does not participate in the breakout, you will be released on parole under the fullest confidence of both my-self and the Mayor of this city. Escape regardless and you will be detained, sentence doubled. Resist detainment, and you'll be making friends with your fellow sharks. Think long and hard before you decide your future. That is all."_

Other inmates who were not wearing purple and were serving life sentences started the riot early. Security guards and sharp shooters around the yard's perimeter stepped in to contain the situation. Lacey thought it was a good time for the guards to work up an appetite. They were going to need it for Laura's special snicker doodles. Shaundi made a joke if any of them were trying to watch their waistline, it wouldn't matter because the sugar rush would be shooting out of them in no time. For the time being, the trio along with Scott agreed to keep themselves within the status quo of the prison since the guards were already having their hands full.

Lockdown came quicker than usual. Shaundi and Marley sat in their cell thinking about their options as to whether or not to partake in the breakout. Marley was hesitant on the matter. Cassie's safety was all she thought about and even that alone wasn't enough to stay cooped up on an island forever. Before going to bed, Marley had something important to tell her.

"I'm not the easiest person to get along with. I won't lie; I tried humping your waist while you were sleeping at times. Hell, I even enjoyed it. But after meeting you, Lacey, and Nat you three have shown me that you're not a bunch of sloppy seconds from some rancid skin joint. You ladies knew how to throw down when necessary. I was able to see my daughter again thanks to you. What I'm saying is, if the Saints would have us, I'd be goddamn proud to kick ass beside you."

"That's really sweet, Mar. Two months don't exactly feel like a lifetime in here." Shaundi said.

"With the right people, a few years can feel like a few days. So, what are you going to do when you get out?"

"Same thing I told Lace and Nat: shower, get high as a mofo, and play some ski-ball at the arcade. I have a drug farming business outside my college campus to get up and running again too; man I'm going to have a shit load of Science homework. What's in store for you and Cass?"

"To rebuild our family again; whatever that means. We've never had the chance to catch our breaths after those VK drive byes took out Cassie's father. I still kick myself when I think back to that day; those teenage girls getting blown up because of me."

"You didn't know they were in the backseat. It wasn't your fault." Shaundi tried convincing her.

"Is that what Vice Kings say to themselves at night; or the Carnales when they do their share of bloodshed? Ben King may have been a good leader, but honestly he ran his crew to the ground. He stayed true to himself while everyone else became consumed by money. The 3rd Street Saints is the only gang left with any dignity. I'd sure like to meet the others one day."

"Perhaps Ty and Scott can hook us up." Shaundi replied.

"That'd be great. Get some sleep, girl. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

Tension and restriction was felt everywhere on the island prison. What was common knowledge to the inmates was the majority of guards going outside and was on the lookout for anything suspicious. As far as Nat and Lacey were concerned, in their cell block guards couldn't get enough of the snicker doodles; some were taking four or five of them for their mid-afternoon snack. If Laura's recipe was on the money, the amount of sugary, doughy intake was going to have them fight for the bathrooms all around; even crap in the ocean if they had to. For the most part things were quiet out at sea; the Warden thought otherwise.

It was a gut feeling he had, and it wasn't coming from the cookies. A few weeks back the prison had a small break in. The person responsible didn't leave any traces of himself behind. All he knew was the talk among the Saints and the newfound freedom they were about to receive. Back then it was just foolish thinking, but the more he thought about it the more paranoid he got that he didn't authorize every hollow wall and crack to be filled up. Whenever he called inmates to his office he would try to get character descriptions on the mysterious jail crasher.

It was a no-go on that front. Either way, he kept his twelve gauge shotgun and bomb vest handy and close by. Out at sea, a big transport boat was drawing closer to the prison. On the stern it had seven boats chained on top in rows of two. The sharp shooter above the old boating dock signaled the driver to stop and not deviate from his present course. Both took out their loud speakers to communicate with each other.

"_Take it easy, man. I just have your delivery of seven drug transport boats on the back here."_

"_Wrong place; the Warden didn't order any new boats."_

"_Are you sure about that?" _The delivery guy asked looking at his clipboard. _"Look, I'm from Universal Sea Exports. Check with your boss."_

The sharpshooter got out his radio and was about to get in touch with the Warden. Suddenly, he was feeling weak in the knees. In fact, from the delivery guy's perspective, other perimeter guards were feeling out of touch with their jobs. He got back on his loud speaker and told him not to move until he got back. Things were going according to plan.

As each guard got weak kneed, they ran off holding on to their butts. This gave the delivery guy the opportunity he needed to dock. Once there and got off the ship, he and two other people were helping him get the boats out into the water. Thank god it was flu season he told himself. After the boats were in place, he took out a radio he stole from one of the guards a few weeks back. He got in touch with an inside contact who was not exactly thrilled in putting his job on the line; even if it was for his brother.

"Drug mule to Home Base: your delivery has finally arrived. Your home can scream in excitement when ready."

"_This is the very last time I help you. If I get fired over this shit, you will never see your nephew again."_

"Just sound the alarm." Mel told him.

He put away the radio and got out his cell phone to contact Troy Bradshaw to confirm his Saints will be getting away soon. Troy assured him he was going to divert the cops in another direction while the breakout was taking precedence. His contact pushed the alarm, sending the entire prison in a state of detainment as the guards were planning to if a majority of them weren't standing in line at the bathroom. Afterwards, all of the cell doors opened. Shaundi, Marley, Nat and Lacey, Tyreese and Scott, and all the Saints wasted no time in getting on the move. They first stopped at the armory, getting out rifles so they can defend themselves if any sneaky guard decided to pay them a visit on the outside.

Once they met up with the four capable ladies, each one including Shaundi got a gun. For the most part, no guards or Warden Joey Vulenti himself made a surprise entrance yet. Tyreese told them they had to reach the old docks at the bottom level of the prison. Nat led the group down there, but it wasn't an easy path. Other inmates not related to the Saints: drug dealers, rapists, typical prison scum were blocking their path in every which way possible. Some were shot down while Marley took care of the hard hitting stuff. Lace and Nat worked as a duo in kicking some convict ass while Lace knocked them out cold.

Warden Vulenti wasn't as dumb as the rest of his employees. He wasn't hungry for Laura's cookies. He had a whole plate staring at him at the center of his desk, but sheer willpower was barely giving him an edge. Flu season was in the air of Stilwater, and all the hacking and throwing up came rushing through like wildfire, impacting Joe with a progressing fever. When he got up, he was feeling light headed as all hell, pressing the front end of the shotgun on the floor to keep him elevated. His gut feeling was right; there was no telling how many convicts that were escaping at that moment. However, he was planning on putting thirty-two souls into the ocean. Since that small break-in, he had a contingency plan in place. He got out his cell phone and dialed a restricted number.

"It's me. The breakout is happening right now. It's time to send these bastards to the sharks."

The Purple escapees finally made it to the old docking bay where they were introduced to seven getaway boats as well as the man who supplied them all. Mel told everyone to get on each boat in groups of three. He thanked his lucky stars the Saints came strapped and ready to make his job go a lot smoother if need be. He was surprised when he noticed Shaundi holding a gun as well. She gave him a delightful passing glance before getting on the boat. He told everyone else to get a move on.

As they headed out to sea, Joe tumbled out of his office and had a sudden urge to throw up. He came across a tall plant to lose a lunch or two. Marty and a few guards who were not so easily swayed by snicker doodles found Joe in an uncomfortable predicament. Marty helped him off the floor and wanted to escort him to the infirmary. Unfortunately however, one guard brought up about a few doctors using the sinks as their toilets.

"How many convicts are still on the island?" Joe asked Marty?

"About half of Cell Block C and some of A and D are still on the premises. It seems likely they want to be released early."

"Or fear of getting shot by our guys up there."

"I'll get you back to your home, sir. I got a helicopter prepped and ready."

"No need; you and whoever's left keep the inmates detained." He said as they were moving down the hallway. "Does your chopper have a chain gun?"

"It has 200 hundred rounds of pissing metal. Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Marty asked.

"Don't make me say it twice. I'll handle the escapees."

All twenty-one Saints plus the Jailbirds were out at sea and making their way towards the city limits. Nat and Shaundi were cheering about how the breakout was going without a hitch. Lacey on the other hand heard something brewing in the sky. Marley went over to find out if anyone was following them. She couldn't explain it, but she was armed and ready for any surprise attacks.

Marley went back and told the others to be on the lookout; they weren't out of the aquatic woods yet. She then told Mel to contact Ty and Scott on being on the lookout as well. He was already on it. Suddenly, a gunshot went off so loud that it nearly sent one boat spiraling out of control. A second shot hit the same hole the first bullet went into, causing it to explode killing three Saints in a blink of an eye. Out of panic, Mel told Tyreese to tell the other Saints to spread out and stay out of the line of fire. The six remaining boats scattered in different directions leading to the city.

On a city rooftop overlooking a grand view of the ocean, three attack choppers were ready to move by one's say. Jason was taking in getting his first shot at the Saints. They were nobody important when it came to running the Row or any other significance to Stilwater, but it was enough for him. His personal vendetta against the purple street gang was just getting started. He contacted the other two choppers to get high and go in guns blazing. En route to the getaway boats, he made a quick call to the Warden to see if he didn't fall for the snicker doodle trick and was crapping in a cell somewhere in the prison. Before he knew it, Vulenti confirmed his personal chopper was out and was going to flank the boats from turning back.

"You don't sound too good, Joe." Jason said over his radio.

"_I guess flu season is in full swing this year. Don't worry about me. I got your back."_

"Don't you mean my front?" He chuckled at the bad joke.

With the six remaining boats on the run from the three attack choppers, Lacey noticed another chopper coming from behind them. Marley noticed it and was pissed Joey would turn on her. Then suddenly, one attack chopper was following them with frightening precision. Every turn Mel tried to take the boat the chopper would follow it just as quickly. Lacey and Nat got out their rifles and began firing at the chopper's base. It didn't slow it down however; they weren't standard issue that could be taken down by two rounds of rifle fire. Its armor was thick, and was closing in fast on them.

Suddenly, the tail end of the chopper was destroyed by an RPG shot by Tyreese, sending it into the ocean. It became hell under the sea when Shaundi saw blood gushing to the surface; sharks too were out for the blood. Mel thanked Tyreese for the help. As for the other Saints the best effort they were able to do was to send lots of bullet holes towards another flying menace. Scott and his Saints drove by the ones who were wasting ammo and tossed a second RPG their way. Before they knew it, after fifty bullets made shrapnel out of the still functional chopper it got blown to smithereens.

"_Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo, _Scott shouted in victory,_ that's what I'm talking about!"_

"Good work, Saints. We're not far from the city now." Mel told them.

"We still got two more in the sky!" Shaundi said.

"Guys, Vulenti's chopper, it's not prison issue." Marley told everyone looking through binoculars.

"Why what's different about it?" Mel asked.

"It has the Ultor symbol on it: a red sun."

"You shitting me; what's a clothing company doing with aerial weaponry?" Lacey asked.

Two choppers went after the remaining Saints. Another boat was taken out by Vulenti, leaving five left as they got closer and closer to the shore. Jason circled around on the eastern sector of the ocean and caught a glimpse of Mel's boat via sniper scope. The pilot flying told him to take the shot. Just when Jason was going to pull the trigger on him, he noticed Natasha on the same boat. He had his head down for a few seconds regretting ever giving her the anonymous tip to find her parents' killers.

Then again, he should've known never to take any understanding from a stripper at face value. His eyes were taken by her hidden beauty he told himself. Looking at Lacey, Shaundi, and Marley, he decided to go for the big fish and take all of them out for good. Suddenly, the pilot told him he was getting communication from Vulenti. Tyreese and Scott were alive along with fifteen Saints finally reaching the shore, leading to the fish packing district. He had a good chunk of the inmates within his sights until he saw six purple cars and vans pulling up to their rescue.

He was getting hammered by the gang's weaponry and almost got blown into the water. His fever was getting worse. Jason told him to hold out the best he could and was going to go help him out, but much to the pilot's surprise, Jason took his radio and threw it out the window. Vulenti was in the wind; all that was left was Mel's boat. He wanted to play God.

Marley was getting annoyed with one of the surviving choppers pursuing them. She took the AK-47 with an attached grenade launcher and fired like there was no tomorrow. Then out of nowhere, all background noise was sent to oblivion when a single sniper shot hit Marley in her left shoulder blade, sending the boat unsteady. Shaundi, Lacey and Nat were shocked by this; they got out whatever weapons they had left and continued shooting the chopper. Marley got back up and fired a grenade at its foundation. Suddenly, she took another shot to her upper right thigh. She fell back with blood spurting everywhere. Mel looked back and acted frustrated as he was trying to make the boat go faster and evade the chopper's sight. She ran out of ammo and there was nothing left on the boat to reload. She tugged on Shaundi's jumpsuit as she moved up next to her.

"Mar, stay back! We can still make it to shore!" Shaundi told her.

"Shaun-di…this is for you, girl." Marley replied giving her an object wrapped in old newspaper. "Tell Cassie…" She said before taking a straight shot to the head and falling overboard.

"NOOOOOOO," Shaundi cried immensely.

Seeing Marley toppling over into the water without any proper goodbye, sent Shaundi into a state of shock. She was no stranger to gunfire, but only if it was heard from far away. Natasha yelled out her name as she covered Lacey in keeping her head down. When they finally reached shore, the chopper ceased its pursuit as if whoever was flying fulfilled its purpose, and nothing more. As for Vulenti, he was feeling too sick to finish off the Saints. He retreated back to his prison. Troy and Dex were front and center, welcoming their homies back safe to find out the results of their escape.

Dex hated the fact the Row lost more crew members added to the long list of the ones who died taking out the three main gangs. As he was getting the others into back of the trucks, Troy looked at his clock and told Dex there was one boat missing that didn't get destroyed. Before he left, Troy made an observation about the cops never showing up when everything was going on. Dex was wondering about that too, giving him a suspicious look as he was driving away. Tyreese and Scott met up with Dex as well as they were welcomed back home.

However, they didn't ride with them back to the Row either. Ty mentioned they had a few guys watching over somebody important, and that they had to go see them right away. Dex gave them one of the cars and they drove off.

Shaundi couldn't process what was happening in front of her. She could still hear the gun shot as if it went through her head instead. Marley was lost to them; the others rested for a minute while Mel was looking at a map to find the safest route back to his nest. He then turned his attention to them.

"Lacey, we got to go." Mel said pointing at Shaundi.

"Give her a minute would you?" Nat angrily told him.

"Channel 6 is going to be all over this area." He said getting off the boat. "We have to get low. I have an underground nest not far from here we can use."

"He's right." Lacey told Nat. "The less exposure the better."

Both helped her out of the boat and got on solid land. Mel noticed something wrapped in newspaper on the back end. He put it in his pocket and rejoined the others. Running back to the city and sticking to side streets to avoid the 5-0 and news trucks, Mel's phone went vibrating in his right pocket. He took it out and it was Troy letting him know the Saints he brought back were being taken back to the Row safe and sound. Troy also let him know he made the cops turned a blind eye to the breakout; something Valderamma was going to have a field day with the Chief of Police.

Mel told him not everyone made it. He already knew six Saints got killed and couldn't do anything about it. Seven was the official number he told him, concluding the phone call that his job was finished and to remind him of what Mel told him two months ago when talking about the parameters of the job. Purple angels were roaming free on this day, but those who are more observant can see through the deception of those trying to justify the means. Being cryptic as he usually was with all his clients, he hung up and continued moving. Eventually, they came across a sewer entrance which made Lace and Nat give Mel an awkward look like if he was serious about his home being in the sewer.

It was a lot safer than living in Shanty Town he told them. By the time they reached his humble abode, he asked them to place Shaundi gently on the couch. She was still in shock; Lace asked if Mel had anything to put her to sleep. He didn't keep any medicine in his nest, just a couple of warm blankets, an old TV, and the couch she was resting on. He then asked Nat to go check some trash bags to get a small towel with water on it; he assured her it was completely sanitary. Lace sat by her side and comforted her. When Nat came back with the moist towel, she told Mel she had it handled in washing her up. He got up and went over to his table to check in his little black where to go next since his job in Stilwater was finished. Suddenly, the TV was turned on and Jane wasted no time in delivering the news update on what happened at the prison.

"_Breaking news: the Stilwater Penitentiary was under complete duress after a sudden breakout of over two dozen inmates escaping the island. This is a first in this city's history to have a prison break without any bodies or sharks involved in the aftermath. To contain the situation, Prison Warden Joseph Vulenti and three unknown accomplices flew out in four attack choppers as they attempted to lure the Saints back to the Prison's mainland. One of the choppers had a hollow red sun on its passenger side, which breeds suspicion as to how a clothing line like Ultor could be involved. This is very concerning indeed. _

_Though 3__rd__ Street's sons and daughters were now reunited at Saints Row, Prison personnel have been less than satisfied to apprehend the escapees. Vulenti couldn't be reached at this time due to flu season being in full swing with his immune system, but I managed to land a quick interview with one of the security guards, Martin Colbeck. Mr. Colbeck, do you have any idea what might've provoked the breakout?"_

"_Well ma'am, over the past several weeks there has been rumors indicating an outside source helping the convicts escape on boats. No doubt it was someone from Saints Row since the two dozen inmates all wore purple hats with wristbands and whatnot. To be honest, some of us guards have been too lenient on their stay with us."_

"_It sounds like some of your partners aren't having the best of days with their health."_

"_The Latrine from every cell block has been clogged if you want me to be explicit."_

"_Ugh, no need. One last question: your boss was flying an attack chopper with the company line, Ultor on it. Can you disclose any minor details as to how a clothing company got in touch with this level of weaponry?"_

"_No I cannot. Listen ma'am I'm going to have to cut this interview short. I got a lot of sick people here that need attending to. Good night."_

"_They seemed to be more concerned with their bowel movements than their prison breach. According to my sources, Police Chief James Floyd received a phone call from one of his officers to pull back any mobile pursuit of the convicts; another concerning state of affairs. Stay tuned for more info on the prison breakout as I speak to the Chief of Police tomorrow. I am Jane Valderamma: Channel 6 News."_

It was going to be some time before the island prison was going to be fully functional again. Mel was looking in his bag where a remaining two grand was in from the payment he got in advance for the job. He zippered it up so Nat and Lacey didn't notice. He told them they were welcomed to stay for the night and leave first thing in the morning. He didn't have any clothes to offer or food to give; just beer and maybe some Ritz crackers somewhere in the nest.

The jailbirds weren't hungry. Suddenly, Shaundi passed out in Natasha's arms. When Mel went to check on her, he breathed that it was only her just sleeping the events away from her mind. Lacey thought she was shot during the escape but thank god that wasn't the case she said. However, they decided to hike back to their old apartment and settle in for the night. Nat wrote on a piece of paper their address and gave it Mel to give to Shaundi when she was able. They both thanked him for getting them out of the prison in one piece as he helped them find their way out of the nest. Before following behind them, Mel took out the object wrapped in newspaper Marley gave her, and placed it on an old coffee table in front of the couch.

The next morning, sounds of water drops hit the surface of the nest, making it sound like boulders crashing and scratching the ground due to the acoustics. Shaundi slowly opened her eyes while feeling a little too warm under a blanket. She raised her head to see where the others have gone; Mel was sitting at his small desk looking at his black book, and was on the phone with a new client. As soon as he saw her woke up, he hung up and went over to see how she was doing.

"Where am I?" She asked.

"One of the nests I occupy in. How are you feeling?"

"Well, I'm having an insane urge to pee but I can't feel my legs. I smell like a rusty jail, and I just lost my cell mate and friend. Other than that, I'm free."

"Yes you are. I'm sorry about Marley. She seemed like a good person. Shaundi, I have to go."

"Why?" She asked.

"I have a new client in upstate New York. You know how it is. They get testy if you don't give them their male enhancement drugs."

"Please, stay awhile." She begged him. "I really need a friend right now."

"You're in luck." He said pulling out the written address. "Nat told me to give you her address when you woke up. Are you familiar with the area?"

"Yeah, I know it."

"I'll let you rest. Nobody else knows about this place so you'll be safe." He said getting up with his things together.

"Mel, she said looking up at him, when are you and I ever going to hook up?"

"Sleep well, Shaundi. I'll catch you on the flip side."

There has been some awkwardness between Mel and Shaundi for over the past two and a half years. They were two sides of the same coin: one got around with guys, the other got around the states. One makes the drugs while the other transports them across state lines and get a hefty payment towards the end of his delivery cycle. But something drew both of them together every time they crossed paths. Apart from their less than acceptable qualities to the rest of society, both were empty inside.

Relationships were overrated; emotions get in the way. Mel was always afraid to have a one night stand with her because if things got too intimate, he would develop genuine feelings for her despite her reputation. She on the other hand was always curious as to how he would treat her; there was always a sense of mystery to his cryptic sayings and having to live in Stilwater the longest. It was one feeling they had for each other that couldn't be explained with common sense, but in the general sense they respected and gave each other their space when they needed. After a few more hours of resting her eyes, she had finally gotten enough to wake up completely and sat up on the couch as she looked at her hollow surroundings.

The basic amenities were still there, but it felt more like a crypt than a hideout. In front of her on the coffee table were some goodies. For someone who had shyness in expressing how one feels about someone, he sure made up for it with breakfast and some old clothes from the Salvation Army. She had a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich and a Mango Coolatta from Dunkaroos. She tore into the sandwich like it was eating normal food for the first time. About halfway done savoring the bacon, her eyes set upon the newspaper wrapped object Marley gave her before she died. Her breathing stopped when she put down the sandwich, and un-wrapped the paper. It was a purple bandana with a note attached to it.

"_Something Ty and I scrounged up for you. Wear their colors proudly, Shaundi. We are Saints now. See you on the other side, girl."_

She gripped the bandana tightly as she was fighting back tears. Then suddenly, it hit her when she was reminded of another note she found on her first drug run with Lacey. It was old and crumpled up, but it held no fear over her head anymore. The best thing she had to do at that point was to keep on living, keep on moving through the unpredictable life that was Stilwater. However, she was going to do so with a stronger head on her shoulders.

"Thanks Mar." She said to herself putting on the bandana.

15


	5. Sub-Chapter: Moving forward

Sub-Chapter

Moving forward

The city streets were filled with both curiosity and cheering for fellow Saints to be back on the Row once again. However, for Tyreese and Scott, things weren't so joyous when they went back to their crew a few blocks from Kingdom Come Records. Both were yammering to themselves and each other as to how they were going to break the news to Cassie about her mother's death. For a small crew like theirs, survival was everything. They were living on an open battlefield every day when the sun goes down.

Many Aisha fans and wannabe gang members stirring up trouble at every turn, trying to run the Saints out of the area. Ty's sister, Darlene has been holding down the fort whenever she stood outside her apartment, keeping a socket wrench and a steak knife handy nearby. By the time they reached her place, all eleven members of their crew stood out ready to welcome their homies back home. Getting out of the car, they said hello to their boys, and Scott told everyone to settle down. He told them not every Saint made it out of the Prison.

The police, or Ultor that Ty brought up, were hunting them down in their attack choppers. That meant extra protection shifts for the crew around a six mile radius. Scott told them to look out for any cop cars or punks wearing the red sun; that was going to be their cue to take cover. The less heat, the better he said. Darlene came out and gave a big hug to Ty as he asked where Cassie was. Darlene was a twenty-six year old Geology major at Stilwater University, ending her sophomore year. After Scott gave their crew new assignments, he went inside the apartment as well to break the news to Cassie.

"Is she up?" Ty asked her as she was giving them their clothes.

"Naw she went to bed a few hours ago. What the hell happened over there?"

"You were right about Ultor. Something's stirring up in that bitch, and it ain't good for the Saints."

"Vulenti was flying one of their choppers. Since when did a clothing line produce psycho warfare? We're not built to take on the military." Scott said.

"These are sensitive times, man." Darlene brought up. "Kids are walking down the street wearing purple or yellow and the 5-0 makes them spend one night in jail. It's fucked up."

"So what do we do now?" Scott wanted to know. "If Ultor's going to be dropping bombs on us, we don't need decent folk caught in the crosshairs."

"You right. Better hope Dex has a plan to sort this shit out. I better tell Cassie now so she knows." Tyreese said before Darlene stopped him.

Waking up a fourteen year old around 3:30 in the morning was not something Darlene was prepared to deal with. She had already lost enough sleep worrying about her brother and now that they were back, she planned on getting another three and half hours sleep in before getting to a morning class. They agreed to tell Cassie in the morning. Ty wasn't going anywhere for a while so she would be watched whenever she wasn't in school. When she went back to her room, they went into the kitchen. The first thing Ty looked for was her sister's famous Lasagna.

Scott joked that his eyes were like two heat seeking missiles looking for the oozing cheese of sultry goodness. As he dug in, Scott was looking for some orange juice and Oreos as he sat down in the dining room table, talking about their next move as a crew and for the Row. They still couldn't believe Julius up and disappeared the night before Alderman Hughes' Yacht blew up; strange they thought. All this time Scott was drawing up ideas and thinking out loud, Ty got ticked off and reminded him that he was his boy and would always have his back, but when it came to a convict who was deprived of tasty Lasagna for so long, all he wanted was six minutes of golden silence. They crashed at her place for the night so they wouldn't have to travel far to talk to Cassie.

The next day, which was Church day for all members in purple, greeted the lieutenants with an alarm louder than the last orgasm Scott got from his ex-girlfriend. Ty was up first on the couch and slowly went upstairs to see if Cassie was awake. Looking through the crack of the bedroom door, she was one heavy sleeper with all the inside chatter and heavenly chomping Ty was making from the Lasagna. He went back downstairs to see Scott on his phone with Dex, confirming they were to meet at the Row to update the convicts on what's been going down in Stilwater, and what 3rd Street had planned for the future.

"We and the other guys are meeting at the Church at noon." Scott told him putting his phone in his pocket.

"It feels good being free. Too bad we lost brothers to the breakout."

"Johnny will give the eulogy like he always does." Scott replied.

"Shit, Gat's idea of a eulogy is going go-karts into expensive limos and dry hump some quality tail to finish off the adrenaline." Ty brought up.

"Yeah I remember. I had a fever and you didn't bring back the clam chowder I gave you money for. Gat's cool and all, but his last stunt pissed off a bunch of ninja sword wielding hobos riding tractors, and pissing on Julius's leather jacket."

"Aw shit, I forgot about dat. Oh did Johnny get an earful after that."

"Then Aisha grew vocal chords and left Johnny in a depressed state for some time."

Cassie's footsteps were heard coming down from her room. She said good morning to Ty and was wondering where Darlene had gone. Then she remembered she had a morning class at the university. Even as she was looking for some cereal, they were still finding out a way to break the news to her easy, but then again, the Saints had never endured easy when facing up to a challenge. Ty called her over for a sit down with concern written all over his face.

She put the cereal bowl down and went over to the living room. The room was quiet for about a good minute until she broke the silence as to what was going on with them. It brought her back to when she was younger whenever she did something wrong and her mom didn't talk to her for forty-eight hours straight. She remembered the bedroom banging too, punching holes through walls with her father trying to calm her down. She then brought up the question about her mother's well-being.

Scott came straight out and told her Marley didn't make it. Ty then fired back by explaining how she didn't suffer in prison. Hell, she was the talk of the island, had a rep and everything he told her. Cassie sat back and tried to process what was being said. She prayed to god each night her mother would be brought back home safe. Her family had suffered enough from the Vice King drive-byes and wasn't ready to take another emotional hit.

She wanted to cry after being told she was shot; both encouraged her to. Marley was held in high respect for getting things done like protecting her family and having the Saints' back in prison when they needed it the most. They didn't even ask for her help. She hated the Kings more than anyone, but for some reason she didn't blame Benjamin King for leaving them to their own failures as a gang. Then they asked Cassie if she had anything to say on how she was feeling, apart from the obvious.

Darlene gave Ty an update sometime after he asked her to take Cassie in for a while for protection. She told him inside that Cassie was a very sweet girl, but there was an ugly dark side she couldn't shake off. The drive-byes hardened her she told him, and like any traumatized human being they would want justice done. It wasn't going to be by the legal system. They were worried in what she might be capable of. Cassie was no stranger to guns since her father was in the military during the Gulf War. She then told them she wanted to be alone and ran back upstairs, with Scott trying to get her attention. Ty was pissed.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" He asked Scott.

"We've been beating around the bush, man. She was going to know eventually."

"You don't just blurt it out in the open. There's a process."

"I'm from Sacramento. We're too damn honest for our own good." Scott replied.

"Got that right; you should stay and make sure Cass doesn't do anything stupid. I'll go to the Church and see what Dex has to say."

"I can go." Scott told him.

"You gotta make this right somehow. Talk to her; get yo teeth broken if that's what it takes. I'll see you later." Ty said walking out of the apartment room door.

Getting in his purple Volkswagen, Ty drove out of the neighborhood and made headway into Saints Row. Along the way he almost got clipped by a raging soccer van with rainbow colors and the peace symbol on the left side. He couldn't get a good look, but he heard someone screaming as well like the guy was strapped against the van and was going for a joyride through the city. It must've been Tobias he thought. Ever since Playa died, he was scrambling to get new business partners who don't skim off the top when making drug runs.

However, those who do either get shot in or…get chased by his van to teach them a lesson. He made a mental note to visit him at his new place of business which was near the trailer parks. Reaching the church, the remaining Saints who were busted out of prison were standing out front waiting for Dex. Ty greeted his homies until Dex came out and told everyone he was ready to talk to them. They all headed inside. Out of orange jumpsuits and dressed like Saints, everyone sat down as Gat and Dex were front and center. Dex welcomed his brothers back to the Row and noticed some were missing from the group, but he didn't go further into that detail. He updated them on what has been going on in Stilwater.

"As you know, the Row has been stretched thin since we went after the Carnales, VKs and the Rollerz."

"Uh, don't you mean "the" Los Carnales?" Gat asked him as everyone snickered.

"I'm never going to live that shit down. Anyway, we got reason to believe there may be some new gangs coming to our city. When you guys were inside, did y'all hear anything about Loa dust?"

"I did." Ty called out. "It's some voodoo powder stuff the Samedi uses to render victims weak against hallucinations. For an addict, it works like regular crack, just that it's top quality shit."

"It's purer than cocaine, and it's making a mint amongst a few top suppliers in the city. Now, Julius made a deal with the liaison of the Colombians that's going to benefit us to lock down Stilwater. The city would be run by our terms and unfriendly mutha-fuckas are unwelcome." Dex explained as Gat cut in.

"If any of those green bitches slip by, I'll just send some C4 their way."

"Johnny, we ain't getting into that shit. You've done enough damage in Steelport to last an eternity."

"That was a warm-up. City's not cup of tea though." Gat replied.

"As far as we know, a gang called the Samedi is in Stilwater. They haven't made any big moves yet, so it's vital we find a sample of that dust and bring it to Manuel. Those mints need to be made by us or the Colombians aren't going to back us."

"I fucking object." One Saint Member shouted from the crowd.

Suddenly, one pissed off member stood up and preached how aligning with a notorious affiliation would ruin them as a gang. Once a small gang on 3rd Street, they all had to scramble to get by in the city with the other gangs making waves and getting respected throughout the years. He also wanted to know why haven't they had their moment of silence for Playa; the one man who basically became the tip of the spear for running the other gangs out of Stilwater. Johnny agreed with him while Dex quickly objected and said they didn't have the luxury to mourn Playa forever. The recruitment drive the lieutenants made a few weeks back have already started so it was crunch time to get the Row back up and running again.

The Saint who called out, Franklin, said if the Saints allied with the Colombians, it would be a wrap. They would be treated like lap dogs instead of individuals like they should, saying they are officially the driving force behind the city. It was rightfully so. Other members in the Church were telling him to shut up and needed a crutch to get things going again, while others rallied to Franklin's side in terms of being their own people. The room was divided; raised chatter sent the place on edge as Dex was trying to get their attention.

Gat obliged his request for silence when he pulled out a shotgun and fired in the air twice. The tension was broken; Gat gave Franklin the floor to express his grievances towards having the Colombians in their back pocket. Franklin gave some cliff notes of his life story by saying he was born in the back of a garbage dumpster during the early days of winter. He had no mother or a name to give his life substance; just a worn out blanket and the sound of his underdeveloped voice. Then a proud couple around late twenties found Franklin crying for warmth.

He grew up in a one level home with nothing but four, paper thin walls of questionable noise and burger smells. His father was a bus driver while his mother was a part-time waitress at an old diner off Grand Dinero. Franklin was taught by both his parents the strong meaning behind family, and to never accept charity unless no other option was given. For his case, his options were not even a fair few. There was a rogue gang called the Himalayans; a bunch of foreign cultists who specialized in body rituals and send their souls to the Mountain Mother, Numeria.

They were so underground, not even the cops were able to track them down. Franklin couldn't explain it. He came home from school around the age of fourteen to find a note on his dining room table. It had both his parents' names, Jerry and Denise on it. They were marked for death. That was when charity kicked his head into high gear and called the Police. They couldn't help him track the cultists down.

He got ahold of his next door neighbor who was an ex-marine, but he was no help with only one leg still attached to his body. A killer instinct was writhing inside of him, driving him to find out if his folks were still alive. He stole a gun and a machete from his neighbor and went after the cultists himself. He was checking alleyways, subways, all while operating on potato chips and diet coke to keep him sustained. That was when he met Julius for the first time.

He was undercover for the Himalayans at the time, wearing bearskin clothes and ritual knives to boot. Franklin followed him into a nest underneath the Stilwater train station. He could still smell rotting corpses and the roars of sadistic animals. However, following Julius's path led him to the ugly truth. There was no rhyme or reason behind the cultists' actions; they were too set in their ways and must've maxed out of animal meat in the mountains. Not only were his parents on bloody spikes, all mangled and chewed up, but other people who showed shreds of purple on them as well.

It devastated Julius a great deal, but it was nothing compared to what a fourteen year old child was going through at that moment. Julius had secretly forgiven reason for the kid's presence in a dark nest. He was staring at the corpses of his loved ones just like he was. That night, both took down numerous cultists while an ocean of blood occurred after. Franklin earned his colors that night, and at great cost of loss for both of them, Franklin didn't get canonized.

"_You're okay, son. Let's get you back home." _Julius said guiding him out.

The Row became his home and his brothers in purple became his family. Before Playa showed up, before the Colombians, it was always about the Saints looking out for themselves. He feared what would happen if that bond was disputed, and the gang would act like investment bankers rather than human beings. Franklin was always kept to his beliefs about the Row, mostly to himself these days. Johnny knew where he was coming from. The room was silent the entire time as Dex was a little speechless by Franklin's words.

"You hit right at home, bro." Gat said, showing him respect. "Maybe we're rushing into this thing with Manuel too soon. We still got recruiting to do, build the Row back up."

"I hear what you're saying, Frank. But the Colombians have a history of violence when things don't go their way. You don't just say "no" to these guys."

"Shit, we still got money from King's bank accounts." Gat brought up. "We'll survive."

"Alright, let's take a vote then. Those who think working with the Colombians is a good direction for us, raise your hand." Dex said as half the members raised their hands. "Those opposed?"

Frank once again was letting his personal problems get in the way of logical decision making. He referred to himself as a fortune teller and made the comparison of how well the Carnales did business with the Colombians. In spite what people thought about going opposite his direction, he gave Dex an ultimatum. In his past experience, he didn't really like Dex because he was always trying to muscle in on Julius's leadership. He bit his tongue in not bringing up Julius's name and how much he was a better leader, but he told him and every Saint in the Church that if they worked with the Colombians, he would have no choice but to drop his flags and be his own man somewhere else.

Gat called him out on being silly and jumping to conclusions. Frank then asked everyone to vote once again on whether he should stay or not. Dex was getting frustrated. He told him if he couldn't take the change, he _should_ drop his flags before he was going to get a bullet in his head. The half who agreed with Frank got riled up and calling bullshit on his decision. Gat wasn't making it easy on Dex either, telling him he was doing a fine fucking job keeping their soldiers in line. Before Frank left the Church, he told them he couldn't go through with it. He took off his purple cap and chain as everyone else, even Ty tried to prevent him from leaving.

"You need to think about dis, bro." Ty said standing in his way. "Like Dex said, our crew is stretched thin. We don't have enough soldiers to take care of a whole city. Until we get back on our feet, the Colombians can ensure protection in areas we can't reach. I mean come on this is us we are talking about. We ain't the VKs."

"I know man. I'm telling you, if we go this route we_ will_ turn into those money shoving assholes. Ben was a fucking idiot. He was making business deals with City Council instead of looking after his own men. They turned on him, and _we_ had to bail him out. I got love for y'all, but someday their influence is going to force you guys to turn on each other. I'm out." Frank concluded leaving the Church.

"He'll be fine, Ty." Gat said. "Anybody else got something to share?"

Talking to a teenager from a bedroom door is exactly as it sounds: literally talking to a door. Scott told Cassie how sorry he was for blurting out her mother's death the way he did. She gave no response which made him worry. Ironically, the last girlfriend he had was in a similar situation. His honesty got the better of him when he told her he was taking Viagra to have sex. Boy he was chased out of her house like he was running from a Tasmanian devil. He didn't want to make the same mistake, but Cassie's silence grew the concern inside of him. He placed his hand on the bedroom knob and said he was coming in, and that plan thwarted when the door was locked. After apologizing in what he was about to do next, he kicked the door open and rushed in to see where she was. He was brought before a suitcase full of her clothes and other belongings. She sat on the edge of the bed with her head down with her back turned from Scott, looking at a window on a sunny Sunday morning.

"Whew, you've had me worried girl." He told her with silence following after. "Still not speaking huh? Look, I don't know how many times I got to say I'm sorry. The thing is Ty and I didn't know your mom for very long. She always held her own inside; guess that's why we didn't go with her during the breakout…shit!"

"I was there during visitation Scott. They were going to release her on good behavior."

"Who told you that? No one gets released on good behavior on an island."

"That's what the security guard escorting me back to the boat said. She was making progress and the reason I showed up was because of that."

"They're lying. Hear me out; when a judge gives you your jail sentence, it's a wrap. You're not getting out. For a gang member it's worse. If you get 25-life, you'll get the chair the next day after lock up."

"Now who's overreacting?" Cassie asked giving him a smirk.

"It's true. You know as well as I do Stilwater don't have a strict set of rules to follow. That's why I joined the Saints because they have their own rules _and_ a code to follow. When you get older and move out into the big city, there's no guarantee of a job, getting a college degree, or have your food made the way you asked. It's all about survival of the fittest."

"Don't you think I know that, Scott?" She said getting up. "Survival was all I did when I was captured by the Vice Kings. I had to bite a guy's finger off so I wouldn't get shot. The other girls I was with were just as scared of the "real" world as I was back then, and now we're free. So don't ever tell me I got to survive in this city."

"Then why are you running away?" He asked her looking at her bags.

"I'm not running away. I'm moving forward."

Before Scott showed up at her door, she was packing up all her clothes and personal belongings so she could stay at her aunt's house in Albany. She texted Darlene about her current situation and got a reply saying she was going to get out of class at three, and have Cassie meet her at the coffee shop off campus to talk. There were very things Scott was capable of doing to convince her to stay, but her mind was made up. Cassie already lost her father to Stilwater, along with her mother in prison, all because she did what she had to stay alive from the Vice Kings. There was nothing left for her she told him, and as much as Scott wanted to tell her otherwise, she may have had a point.

He didn't know the future of this city. All he knew was a text he got from Ty, telling him there was a possibility of a gang called the Samedi occupying in Stilwater as they spoke. She zipped up her suitcase and felt some loud growling in her stomach. Scott brought up the fact in taking her out to breakfast before meeting up with Darlene. It was the least he could do he told her. He insisted as if she didn't have a choice in the matter. She smiled and both walked out of the house to go to a diner. He told a few other Saints to guard the house while they were gone as well as telling them about a new gang wearing black and green colors.

Every locked up Saint was walking free out of the Church, and out into their lives as Ty suddenly saw Tobias's van chasing the same guy he was pursuing earlier in the day. Much to his curiosity and his mutual history with the crazed drug dealer with dreads, he got in his car and followed him to an open forest land where the runner couldn't take the exhaustion anymore. The guy rolled out of the way as the van nearly took his left arm off and stopped directly in front of him. Tobias wasted no time jumping out and making gut wrenching work on his partner, using the butt of his gun to bash the teeth from the guy's face.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN PUT YOUR HANDS ON MY BABY?! YOU THINK I'M A FUCKING KNUCKLEHEAD?!" Tobias screamed as the guy was trying to get up and got kicked in the stomach. "WHERE YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING HUH?!"

"Toby what the fuck is going on?!" Tyreese stressed to him.

"Stay out to of this, Saint. This asshole wanted to defile my one true love."

"Toby put the gun down!"

"Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?" Tobias demanded before shooting the guy's right leg. "We're not fucking done!"

"What exactly did he do to your girl?"

"Pussy doesn't have anything to do with it, bro." Tobias replied holding his partner in headlock.

"Then what's the problem?"

"He was going to put the Death Star on my van, paint the whole vehicle black because he has basement syndrome."

"Star Wars is the shit!" His partner shouted trying to retain his breathing. "Who wouldn't want to smoke weed in space?"

Tyreese thought he had the situation figured out that his ex-partner had done something disgraceful to Tobias's girlfriend. But his jaw was still plastered to the ground without any way to wrap his head around in what the real reason behind it was. Suddenly, Ty pulled out his glock and shot the partner in the groin. He screamed and was tossing blame that because of his nuts getting shot off he wouldn't be able to masturbate to Princess Leia anymore. Tobias kicked him away and told him to get out of his sight before his trigger finger was feeling itchy again.

"The only reason he isn't laying here is out of respect for you guys. I heard about the prison breakout last night. That was some pure action movie shit."

"Not all of us made it out. Some of the deaths were hitting harder than others." Ty replied.

"Ah, what're you gonna do? People pop out of vaginas and get thrown into the ground when they can't wipe their own asses anymore, but seriously my condolences for your man, Playa. He didn't talk much, but he was a loyal employee when we went on drug runs together."

"I appreciate it." He said looking at Tobias's beat up van with him looking back as well.

"What? My baby was putting on weight. I had to make her exercise some hurt on that motherfucker."

"How long have you been chasing that guy?"

"Brian? For about three hours. You don't mess with a man's vehicle. Hey um, I need a favor. Since I'm one man short, you think you can." He told Ty before his phone went off.

Scott was on the other line, telling him Cassie made a decision about not living in Stilwater anymore. When Ty wanted to know why, he immediately sympathized with the reason due to what she had been through with her mom gone. Luckily she had family elsewhere so she was able to start a new life. She has been good to Darlene and would feel sad in seeing her go, but like many Saints who have lost brothers and sisters it was time to move forward he told Scott. Ironically, it was the same thing Cassie said with no turning back. He took a rain check with Tobias before he went back to his car.

Ty was going to break the news to his crew and told Scott he was going to meet up with them later. Before he put his phone away, he suddenly got a text from Gat inviting the entire Row over to the bar to meet his old friend, Tommy Kwong later that night. He told himself he could use a beer and some chicken wings after the slop he was getting in jail. Around 3:30 in the afternoon, Scott dropped off Cassie to a coffee shop off campus where Darlene was. They were going to have a girl-to-girl talk about her leaving as well.

Their relationship over the past month and a half had started like Darlene felt burdened to take care of a teenager. She was juggling rent, school, and a job with a landlord not giving her any slack whatsoever. She grew to like Cass when she socked her landlord in the jaw about being too damn early for the rent. Plus the guy kept hounding her for some cigars Ty usually kept at her house before he went inside. If it wasn't for their common window shopping for designer handbags, Darlene could've sworn they were sisters separated at birth.

The living arrangement got a lot easier when Cass opened up and told her the things that had happened to her. They were two ladies against the world for going on the daily grind and living their lives the way they want to live them; no more no less. For Darlene's case, she was connected to the Saints. That was either good or bad on some days. Once they sat down and had some mocha lattes, it suddenly hit Darlene that this was going to be the last time she would be able to do this.

"Scott told me you want to move in with your Aunt in Albany." Darlene brought up sipping her latte.

"I thought about it all day today. It's for the best. I don't want to be consumed with bad memories."

"I understand. That's one of the reasons why I'm going to school for Geology, get a job out of state and be away from gangs tearing at each other. Scott kicked my door down didn't he?"

"Heh, how'd you guess?" She chuckled.

"Who else in my brother's crew would be stupid enough to be first in a firefight? Ever since our first house got burned down when I was little Scott was there to get me, Ty, and my family out."

"I remember. Tyreese and Scott were neighbors when they were kids."

"He's good for the Saints." Darlene replied.

"Now I gotta do what's good for me. I have to move forward from here." She said drinking her latte. "My Aunt's coming to pick me up tonight around six."

"Well, I can't stop you from doing what you want. You're young. Just be careful wherever you go. I still got some lasagna left over if you want to take it with you."

Cassie gave her a look that signaled Darlene to shake her head and realized her brother was a human garbage disposal when it came to her lasagna. For the rest of the afternoon both talked for a while until around a quarter after four in the afternoon. Driving home, Cassie took the time to look at some of her fondest memories around the city: going to see her first concert of a famous singing group called the Romantic Liberators when she was seven, she and her mom going jet skiing in the hot summer days which didn't last very long unfortunately she thought. She saw some purple bunny ears rising from the water. It was one of the few times Marley was scared of something creepy from the ocean other than sharks.

When the good memories of her life were left in Darlene's rearview, she turned away from the sight of her old home. The one huge crack in the neighborhood was where her father got shot, and the VK truck holding the kidnapped girls blew up. Also seeing an abandoned house was the nail on the coffin for her to leave Stilwater behind her and start a new life. When they got back to her apartment, Ty and Scott were sitting on the stoop having some of Darlene's strawberry lemonade. They walked up to them with Darlene asking if they didn't have food or drink of their own. Scott brought up they got takeout all the time when patrolling the neighborhood and never had the chance to savor something homemade.

Reaching 5 o'clock, they all sat down and watched TV while Cass was on the phone with her Aunt giving her directions to find the house. They were squeezing Darlene for some extra arm room when she brought up about a second couch for them to loaf on. Bickering amongst them-selves, suddenly Cassie needed closure on one more thing. It was whether or not the Vice Kings were still out there and the Saints were hunting them down. Ty asked her if she was ready to listen to an ugly truth. Darlene stopped him when he said that but was told it was Cass's choice if she wanted to hear it. She wanted the closure no matter how graphic it was. She didn't want VKs going after the only family she had left.

"Your mom…she was Saint Material. We've gotten word about the guy who was orchestrating the kidnappings long after King left the country. Corey was his name. We brought your mom onto the prison's helipad where the remaining VKs were tied and gagged in a circle. When she had Corey in her sights, there was no tomorrow for him. She beat his ass down, broke both his legs until he was unable to defend himself. In the end, she came back to us with a clear conscience. The guy who got us out said she got shot in the head by an unknown rifleman who may be affiliated with Ultor in some way."

"We don't know that for sure." Scott said.

"How can a clothing line have a secret arsenal?" Darlene asked as she was pondering. "Maybe the CEO had a hand in that."

"Dane Vogel, Cassie asked everyone, I saw him at a fundraiser at the Stilwater High School last month. With a military background, he didn't sound too keen about clothes."

"We'll have to do some background work on this Vogel guy." Tyreese replied checking his phone.

Ty got the message from Gat to meet at the downtown bar with the other Saints. They got up and said their goodbyes to Cassie and insisted her to not be a stranger in their town. Darlene took her outside to wait for her aunt while her brothers in purple took off in their drinking escapades when meeting a new member to the Row. When the sun officially went down and eight o'clock came around, Cassie was hearing three honks from her Aunt's silver Volvo. They both hugged for the last time.

"Take care of yourself, you hear?" Darlene asked her.

"I will. Thanks for everything, Dar."

"Remember, the Row will always have your back; whatever you need." She said before pulling away from the hug.

As Darlene saw Cassie being driven away out of the neighborhood, she felt sad and at the same time relieved because she had a feeling Stilwater was going to change. It was a gut feeling; something was up in the Ultor Company, rumors of a new gang rolling around in secret. It has been said before that Stilwater tends to choose its people and weed out the ones who were not welcome. Cassie's past was officially behind her with the rotting carcasses of the Vice Kings already consumed by the ocean's sharks. However, a returning veteran was welcomed back with open arms by the 3rd Street Saints. Being an old friend of Johnny Gat's, he will have quite a tale to tell.

13


	6. Chapter 4: Welcome home, brother

Chapter 4

Welcome home, brother

Each member that was released from the island prison was invited for a drinking party to christen an old friend of Johnny Gat's. Once an up and coming wrestler from High School turned war hero Tommy Kwong, or "TK" as Gat referred to him when they were kids. Apart from Playa's gun-toting days with Johnny against the opposing gangs, in the old days Tommy and Gat were the original thick as ass kicking thieves around Chinatown, and pretty soon was building a reputation around the city. The Saints didn't know it yet, but his return to the rotten apple was going to put the Row at ease; less bodies would be lay wasted in the streets and Johnny would have more time for more productive things like getting the safe houses in order and catching up to the good old days with an old friend. Around 8:15 at night, Tommy left his studio apartment in Chinatown and took a personal tour around the city to see how much had changed since he left.

It felt a lot quieter; no gangs were around to stir shit up. Kingdom Come Records was gone, but he already knew the real reason behind its demise, and the upside was seeing more men and women in purple walking the streets. Give or take a few months, and the city will be back to running smoothly in no time since the Saints put the lockdown to prevent any new gangs from causing trouble. There was already one lurking behind the scenes; Dex was looking into it. Tommy was walking past the Tee 'N' Ay strip club until he saw a familiar face storming out of the joint with the owner following suit, cursing for no reason.

"You and Selina trashed my club! I can't believe how fucking stupid to think I'd hire you back. Don't ever step foot in here again!"

"Есть некоторые задержки дыхания монет, вы ублюдок!" Lacey shouted in Russian.

(Eat some breath mints, you bastard!)

"Yeah fuck you too." The owner replied out of frustration, walking back inside.

"Never really liked the guy; gave me stale beer." Tommy shouted out to Lacey as she walked away angrily.

Lacey stopped after he spoke and turned around to see a familiar face herself. She was feeling weak in the knees. It wasn't love at first sight when she and her friend Natasha stepped out on stage and gave the Saints the lap dances that changed their lives. Unlike his brother Bobby, Tommy wasn't a sucker for love. He was the type of person who lived for the moment, and the night he came back seeing a Russian dancer for the first time, his heart pulled him closer for a chance in meeting her outside the club.

"Try asking for a mojito. I think he likes screwing with his customers with the amount of salt he puts on the brim of each glass."

"He should be fired. He clearly doesn't know how to run a classy joint." Tommy told her.

"I miss Miguel, treated his ladies right. I keep forgetting I'm back on the outside; place feels too constricted."

"At least it's a lot quieter. I remember the scuttle you got with those party crashers a couple months back. You want to know a saying where I'm from? Show me how you survive, I'll show you who you are. How does it feel to escape from an island prison?"

"You know, if the Coast Guard were chasing us it'd been a lot more fun. Anyway, I got to head home. It was nice seeing you again, Tommy." She said giving him a smile and walking away.

"Wait up!" He shouted catching up to her. "I have some friends meeting up at this old lounge where you can drink for free. I was wondering if you'd like to go."

The owner of the strip joint, Darius got pissed off when the sounds of his footsteps stomped out of his club. He was demanding to know why his ex-stripper and an unpaid Asian were still talking after he fired her. Just when Tommy was about to tell him off, his crazy best friend Johnny rolled around and beeped the horn twice, telling him to get his ass in the car. Tommy went the extra mile and wanted to bring beer to the lounge so he didn't feel like a douchebag not bringing anything. The owner must've had a death wish or something after explicitly using his racial slurs that he wasn't going to give away the booze he slayed over. Lacey brought up two big kegs of his best Coors Light and Peach wine coolers sitting in a tight lit freezer, all fresh and untainted.

When she offered to show Tommy where the kegs were, Darius got testy. He almost backhanded her for speaking out. Tommy grabbed his arm and held it in such a way that his elbow was about to snap. Lacey frisked his pockets and found the keys to the freezer. As they went inside, Johnny wasted no time pulling out his shotgun, aimed it sideways at the owner's neck. Pretty soon, they were carrying out the two kegs of delicious alcohol and loading them up in the trunk. The owner wasn't having it so he got out his cell phone and dialed 911, but for a split second he forgot how he was afraid of guns being fired off with an intimidating echo following after. One shot from Gat's shotgun caused his phone to get dropped onto the middle of the road; a garbage truck was passing on its merry way and crushed it in the process. On a warm night filled with drinking and stories to be told, Tommy and Lacey were prepared for a trip down memory lane.

"Good looking out, bro." Tommy told Johnny.

"Don't sweat it. That asshole needs to learn his place. Hey Lace, how're you doing sweetheart?" Gat asked.

"Life in Stilwater never gets boring." Lacey told him.

"Why change now?" Johnny said. "Where's Natasha?"

"She's got some personal business to handle. But I texted her, she should be free soon. Where are we heading again?"

"Is it still there?" Tommy asked.

There was an old Irish Pub that was home to many hippies and free spirits back in the early seventies; Rorosky's Lounge. Tommy and Johnny used to go there as wild teenagers, holding all the parties there with free booze and roof raising beats. Before dating Aisha, Johnny was a hound dog. Women of all ages in his high school were either curious of what he was like under the bed sheets or just didn't care, and wanted to lose their virginity. At the time, Tommy was his wing man for their last senior year party. He and a few friends were setting up the old lounge up with steel pipes for stripper poles and manually made beer for drinking contests to see who can hold their liquor the longest. After inviting all the luscious women and cool guys over for the bash, Johnny took the biggest risk of all: getting the Principal's wife to mamba her way to his wild nature.

On the ride over, it was Tommy who brought up Lorena Hernandez. Boy was she a spicy, Mexican number Johnny couldn't wait to stick it to the man so to speak. The Principal at the time, Barry Jensen, always rode the Asian brothers on their masculinity and lack of discipline. Thankfully however, it was verbally riding them and not the other way around. Once Lorena said yes to Johnny's persuasive, yet sweet talk the rest was history. They didn't remember graduation or anything during the bash. All they remembered was the hangover, and the bruises they had gotten on their faces with a keg of teenage vomit all over Tommy's head. It was a good thing he didn't remember who did that to him he thought; otherwise the city would be very nervous with his fighting expertise. Apart from having a hazy memory on the Lounge's festivities, Johnny kept going into excruciating detail on how he and the forty year old Latin milf had their first outing.

"Ah shit, I highly recommend covering your ears, Lace." Tommy chuckled.

"Don't listen to this sissy." Johnny said. "I'm telling you, you can bring any guy, desperate or experienced to his knees with these kinds of moves Lorena made on me. I even gave the cliff notes to Eesh when we were first going out. The sex since then has never been better."

"Is it safe?" Lace asked.

"You'll be walking like a high penguin after all is said and done, but if you want your first time with someone special follow these tips."

"I never got the chance to say how I sorry I am about her death at that record label. You two really had something." She replied with an awkward silence following after.

"Don't worry about it." Tommy whispered to her.

As they were pulling up towards the Lounge, the imprisoned Angels wasted no time getting their drink on. An ecstatic Johnny jumped to the back of the car and popped open the trunk to get the two kegs. It was amazing Lacey thought to herself; he carrying both kegs at once as he screamed out to his Saints for bringing more booze. In some ways, Johnny wasn't mad at Lacey for bringing up what had to happen at Aisha's alma mater. He knew the truth behind the explosion, but after Playa died he was second guessing himself at the things he was doing when it came to being a bad ass. Johnny told Tommy this too.

Only recently Johnny got his shit together after Steelport because he had a purpose for his brothers in purple, but he was still in a real bad place. Nowadays anyone who wasn't part of the gang asking him about Aisha he would snap. Luckily, there would be a few homies walking on the street to restrain and calm him down. Rorsky's Lounge definitely had the feel of nostalgia all over the place. Tommy didn't think to come here when he came back from Iraq; getting caught in war stories with an old friend can make you forget background information. The Lounge wasn't much, it had a two recently placed stripper poles on top of a wooden stage with purple satin material to christen the talent.

Johnny had wanted to reopen the place up for years. Way before he joined the Saints and built a rep, everyday day after school he would go there to mess around with friends while Tommy was doing homework and thinking about his future. That's what made it so interesting about the Asian compadres; both were so diverse. The Lounge resided in an abandoned part of the city where the company Ultor hadn't sunk its constructing claws into yet. Every Saint greeted him a welcome back as Tommy was getting reacquainted with the homies. Lacey on the other hand was greeted just as well from a few female Saints who were imprisoned too. After a good fifteen minutes of settling in an old favorite had by few, Johnny got up on stage with an old microphone in his right hand and gave a brief speech about his old pal.

"_Alright motherfuckers, pay attention! Tonight is a night of nostalgia as y'all are sitting in the one place where beer didn't cost you ten bucks a mug. We've had a lot of good times here, Tommy and I; good times. But when I would fuck around not caring about consequences and shit, that man right over there has been to hell and back when times I needed him most. He has faced that hell as a marine when he got deployed over to the Middle East. I think just this once, I'll say he's a better Saint than I am, and c'mon man, I'll keep riding you till you till I see purple on you. Before I get his ass up here, I didn't have the chance to thank three vital characters that brought you all back from the prison. Give a round of applause for Lacey, Ty and Scott." _He said as the room applauded them.

"Is he always this charismatic, when not shooting people with a shotgun?" Lacey asked Ty.

"Very few times he uses his words without a big explosion behind him after a shootout. I hope Playa's death didn't turn him remorseful." Ty replied as all three looked at each other.

"Nah," all three said.

Soon after, he called Tommy to the stage and handed him the microphone in order for everyone to hear him properly. The room simmered down; Lacey looked to him with interesting eyes as the floor belonged to him.

"_Thanks Johnny. You're a bad ass with heart…sometimes."_ Tommy said as chuckles were fluttering around the lounge. _"That's what I respect about Johnny. Sometimes he does shit just because he feels like it, but other times it's for selfless reasons: whether it's helping the Saints or for the greater good of Stilwater. When I was in the corp. after getting seasoned into combat, and hearing a nacho eating bastard shouting my ear off during training, new recruits were required to write an essay: Why did we love the U.S. Marine Corp.? The hook I added was a saying my grandfather told me when I was young, all through my time as an MMA fighter. "The true test of a man is never accomplished. It is taught through the teacher, to the student, and it is up to the student to practice that virtue onto others." _

_Each day as I fought through that god forsaken hell in Iraq, every day was a test. You see, the rules over there don't exactly apply to a pariah type city like this. Things were simple: "kill or be killed". "Look to the soldier on your left and your right. If they made it to the other side, then the war really has been won." I was never born in Vietnam or experienced Iwo Jima first hand, but war is no goddamn joke. _

_Before leaving for deployment, the Saints were at war with three other gangs fighting for territory that didn't belong to them. When I got back, Johnny said we'd won. Things are a lot quiet now. Buildings are getting rebuilt; the Row is expanding in ways I haven't seen before. Just a few days ago Johnny was showing me his safe house. Pretty soon, the whole city will be under the Saints protection._

_Let's go back to a time before the Row was formed. Put your lagers close to you, and get ready for a history lesson."_

Being in the USMC wasn't a foreign thing for Tommy. Though they were Chinese, his family background saluted the flag with pride ever since he was a kid. His father William was a United States Army Ranger, serving his due diligence while his mother Alicia was a stay at home army wife who taught both Tommy and his twin brother Robert in the ways of Martial Arts. At age 3, Tommy was taught at an evenly pace in the arts of Wing Chun, Judo, and Jiu-Jitsu. Born with an old soul rather than a modern generation, he wasn't a typical child in Stilwater's party crazed town.

Living in the Kwong household, there were rules; simple and straightforward. If any discipline was to be had in not following the rules of his family, the training in the three main fighting arts would get gruesome and faster. A year later, Tommy was a fast learner, but wasn't fast enough. Alicia taught him to respect his body and the power it held within. If he were to exhaust his power, then his body would cease to live.

For a brief amount of time, Bobby fell a little behind while craving for more. That was because he was more of a troublemaker than Tommy ever was. Bobby was more of a lover, not a fighter type of kid, and sibling rivalry was healthy in big family so throughout its natural course, both brothers fought for the chance to have their lessons beyond six hour days, five days a week. While still being the age of four, one evening the brothers went to their little dojo at the back of their house and prayed for a while.

Bobby didn't buy into the whole higher power thing. He felt their father wasn't going to come back alive and this feeling had been pent up for weeks. Normally, kids wouldn't be having these feelings at such a young age, but Bobby used this to his advantage to get better at his fighting techniques so their mother would focus on him while Tommy would be stuck doing dishes every night. After prayer, Bobby brought up a hurtful thing about their father; his personal truth to get a rise out of him.

"_父親是不回來__." _Bobby told Tommy.

(Father is not coming back.)

"_我們已經通過這一點。__父親有一個強大和靈魂__,__不要忘了他知道該如何永春。__他將與我們很快。"_Tommy replied with assurance.

(We have been through this. Father has a strong soul, and don't forget he knows the ways of Wing Chun. He will be with us soon.)

"_我不想他回來。 他選擇了戰爭結束後__,__家庭。 我希望他的生命得到採取。"_

(I do not want him to come back. He chose war over family. I hope his life gets taken.)

"_我認為這是越來越熱__,__你。 我原諒你。"_

(I think the heat is getting to you. I forgive you.)

"_你應該知道。 當父親的頭被切斷了__akuji,__我將會加強和他的家庭保護者。"_ Bobby laughed and slowly looked at Tommy._ "__玩骯臟__內__衣清洗我的休息__,__你的生命。"_

(You shouldn't. When father's head gets cut off by Akuji, I will step up as family protector. Have fun washing my undergarments for the rest of your life.)

Apart from having the ability to speak proper at a young age, both brothers tended to take things a little too seriously, especially about their father. Instead of showing it, Tommy grabbed him and ran him out of the dojo and out in the water enriched grass during a rainstorm. They couldn't see well, concentration was lacking on both fronts because half the time they would try to hit each other and hit nothing but air. It is said that a simple rainstorm can cleanse the body of uninvited oils and mental stress. For Tommy, he had uninvited an excruciating nightmare.

The stories their mother told them about the Boxer Rebellion, Korean War, Vietnam, were all so vibrant and scary. He had their stories cling to his head for so long that he was starting to see war in its purest form. Only remembering their father from old photos, Tommy saw a young version of him clouded in yellow smoke. It spread across an open battlefield of guns and swords clashing. Tommy ran through the smoke to reach him, to protect him, but when the smoke dissipated he was brought before a disturbing image.

William had suffered a hundred cuts all over his body; his eyes were gouged and a bloody smile was carved on his face. This nightmare ran its course as both brothers fought in the rain. By the time he woke up, he was sitting in his bedroom getting stitched up by his mother. Bobby was nowhere to be seen, which meant one thing in his mind. However, he discarded that thought when his mother acknowledged what Tommy did was an act of honor for the family. He didn't quite understand, but then again his mother didn't follow every aspect of Chinese family tradition.

"_你的__,__它再次嗎__?" _His mother asked patching him up. _"__他們隻是做噩夢。 我不明白為何你男孩扑滅。 這種家庭並不爭取犯罪__;__我相信你明白。"_

(You had it again, didn't you? They are just nightmares. I don't understand why you boys fight. This family does not fight for delinquency; I'm sure you understand.)

"_他們隻是做噩夢。 我不明白為何你男孩扑滅。 這種家庭並不爭取犯罪__;__我相信你明白。"_

(He said hurtful things about father. He's going to come back, I just know it.)

"_我知道他沒有。 這是我的錯。 我已讓你的兄弟花太多時間與爺爺黃。 他得到在你的頭和一切都變。"_

(I know he did; it's my fault. I had let him spend too much time with Grandpa Wong. He gets in your head and everything changes.)

"_我也懲罰__?" _He asked.

(Am I punished too?)

For the first time since their father left for the service, Tommy was ordered by his mother to stay in bed and rest until the swelling went down. That night at four years old, Tommy was more than determined to continue learning jiu-jitsu next. She was quite relieved she at least had one son who wouldn't dare soil the Kwong name. The same could not be said for Bobby; he grew distant, jealous even, felt betrayed when he only said the things he said to start another fight with Tommy. For the next three years, both brothers were honing their skills.

Tommy was progressing at an impressive rate with Bobby falling behind. The number three must've been a lucky number; on a stunning Thursday afternoon, a cab pulled up to their house and the eyes of the brothers and worried wife were opened to a godsend stepping out from the cab. At age 7, their father came home. Embraced with weeping eyes and a thirst to show him what his sons had learned, William was glad to be home himself. He took a few months off in being a ranger and spent every waking moment with his family.

The art of Wing Chun guided him through many close calls in the service, and couldn't be any more proud of Tommy honing that skill at a young age. On their eighth birthdays, William took the boys to a studio apartment that was still under construction at the time. It was owned by Alicia's father, Mr. Wong in the upper areas of the apartments' district of the city. From there, he taught them some survival techniques he learned from the service, mostly the basics of CQC. In times of war, a soldier always has to learn to defend himself other than just using a gun. Any human being on the planet can pull a trigger.

For five months, even as the studio was still being renovated Tommy learned CQC as well. Close quarters combat was paramount to running on an open battlefield; it's what separated him from other Army Rangers, going the extra mile to make sure the day was won to survive another. Rorsky's had immersion all around the place. It was like every Saint was hanging on to every word Tommy was saying. Some of the Saints spoke amongst themselves if Johnny was telling the truth about them being friends. The two were on opposite sides of the same coin, and while still going through the daily grind at eight years old, Tommy met that said opposite side.

"_I know what you're thinking. How is this bastard not the next Bruce Lee? With his skills, he could live the rich life of Hollywood's lapdog; probably take it like one. This brings back to what I said about having an old soul as a kid. I didn't go out all that much, played video games or got hyper off candy. Every day after school and evening, my mother and father taught us how to fight, and to earn respect in the community. _

_Bobby on the other hand became distant from me. He did chores after school rather than train. As we got older I implored him to learn by my side, but after what he said about our father not coming back from his tour…he said that for a reason. It turned out I wasn't the only one who had that nightmare. Heh, he concealed that fear better than I did. _

_I used that nightmare as a way of pushing myself; last thing I wanted was my family getting torn apart by Akuji hands. Bobby chose to ignore it, so I didn't push him anymore. My father got promoted to officer duties which bought him a golden ticket to the Pentagon. Around ten, ten and a half years old we didn't see him as often as we'd liked. Stilwater grew restless especially around these parts. Gangs were tearing each other to pieces; Carnales and Vice Kings fighting for control of the city. It would have gotten a lot worse if it weren't for Johnny. Say now that I think about it, how many guys chased you down before I showed up? It was middle school and you were suspended for eight weeks?"_

"Damn, hold on. I got to think back here." Johnny said closing his eyes and thinking. "I think a good twenty erectile dysfunctional pricks were mad because I was charming up their girlfriends. They were all teachers; silicone beauties who just want the male student body to caress their bodies. All I did was a public service at thirteen."

"_He had no shame. Each boyfriend chased him down from the arcade to the end of the boardwalk until he had no choice but to break some knee caps. Mind you, he wasn't as pissed off or the bad ass you see him now. This was one of the few occasions I had in getting out of the house and used the time to myself. It was the first time tasting a candy apple. Then I see twenty, uptight freaks with crowbars and baseball bats."_

"I think one motherfucker had a Molotov on him too. So what if I charmed the seventh grade French teacher? Mmm Charmaine; a voice _that_ sexy needs to be heard by worthy ears."

"_Here's how the fight went down." _Tommy told them.

Retracing his steps back on memory lane, he recalled jumping on one of the jealous dicks and kneed his back to the point of severe bruising. Casting him aside and picking up a crowbar, he saw a young Johnny performing Jackie Chan tricks on the others while making wise cracks on how he made their girls ejaculate in three minutes than they ever did for however long they've been dating them. Tommy clocked another guy in the head while Gat punched another in the Adam's apple. A good seventeen of them boxed them in, all fired up and ready to get thrown in jail for child abuse. Using their weapons against them, Johnny went a little overboard on two of them when he was using a baseball bat.

Tommy held his own with an intimidating air surrounding him while the others saw an animalistic side that shouldn't even exist in a kid. Before they knew it, the boyfriends ran away with tails in between their legs except for one guy. Tommy remembered the name being Lyle Hendricks III; a thirty something client at Legal Lee banging a fifty-four year old English Teacher named Molly. Always seeing the good in people, Tommy tried restraining him from doing any further damage to Lyle. He had a face that was virtually unknown with two broken legs and a brutal vasectomy thanks to Johnny's curb stomping.

It turned out Lyle was playing the lonely Bachelor with a crap ton of cash in his back pocket with Johnny's mother. The affair went from expensive dinners to loud arguments. The question at the time was why Lyle thought it would be a good idea to go up against Johnny with nineteen other guys? The others didn't mean shit to him, but Johnny just wanted it to be over. Tommy understood the reason behind it enough.

Coming out of that fight unscathed would have happened in a perfect world; both came out with bruises and Tommy with one broken rib, courtesy of a metal baseball bat. Since that day, they started to become friends, looked out for each other in times of gang conflict. Their friendship went from the occasional beat down to daily brawls every weekend. It was like young Johnny was looking for reasons to kick someone's ass in more ways than one. In a city like Stilwater, it was imperative to have someone watching your back in times of trouble, and that's what they did.

Tommy skipped ahead to the early years in High School where he decided to challenge himself on another fighting technique that guaranteed scholarships and conjugal visits from cheerleaders in the janitor's closet. He took up wrestling which used to be an extracurricular activity kind of thing when he was ten reaching eleven. It took some time to adjust; you can't just knock somebody out and walk away. Wrestling for him took time and patience. It felt like playing chess; anticipation of the opponent was the key.

William and Alicia were supporting the fact he was utilizing his skills throughout the years, but for William's case he was concerned about his friend Johnny. Johnny was gaining a bad reputation; good for the people and gang members who didn't dress in red. His last name went from "Takamoto" to "Gat" because of his excessive use of a glock he picked up one night in front of his parents' home. They were shot to hell, and were on the verge on becoming ashes before his home got blown sky high. Johnny knew the dangers within Stilwater, but he didn't care.

There were no strict set of rules for him to follow so he just beat up whoever he wanted, drank whatever, charmed whoever gave him a smile, never contemplating the effects of his actions. He wasn't very close to his family until bringing it up to Tommy a few days after it happened. They were in the backyard of Tommy's home until William called him inside for a chat, voicing his concern on a highly troubled teen.

"_How can I put this, Thomas? You can't be friends with a criminal."_

"_He's going through a hard time. I'm one of the few he can count on right now." _"Tommy said.

"_What happened to his parents is inexcusable. If it were up to your mother and I we would be delving out justice too, but we're not killers. Neither are you, son. You keep following him, there's no telling what kind of life you'd end up in. Now I know you can defend yourself, that's not the point. The Kwong bloodline only delivers vengeance when there is no other option."_

"_Then let me talk to grandpa. He's got his ear to the gang activity around the city. I am simply asking for one phone call. Please? I'm left out. Bobby won't speak to me; you guys have your own busy lives. I have one friend who's hurting. Let me help."_

Thinking about what Tommy said enticed him to make that one phone call while keeping Alicia in the dark about it. He was an uneasy influence on his son, but a good one nonetheless. They had each other's back. She always felt indifferent toward her father, the business he leads. Tommy was really intent on helping so a few weeks after the phone call Johnny was invited to a meat packing warehouse down by the ocean.

It was one dark secret he chose not to divulge to anyone, including Tommy. However, it was reassurance Lyle or any of his friends weren't going to burn anybody else ever again. Darkness grew in him after that; he kept it bottled up and compacted as he hung out and had their friendship grow throughout High School. It was four years worthy of hardships, smoking joints, smoking fools with fists and getting laid on Johnny's front. If he and Bobby had remotely anything in common, it was competition to see who would get the most girls in a single school year.

Towards the end of their freshman year, Tommy was coming out of wrestling practice and heading into the showers until he saw a lovely creature sparing him a passing glance. Eleanor Green her name was. She grew up learning from her sister in how to become a model in the real world. They've gotten to know each other over the summer; she was the type who loved a good time. Also coming from a rich family of hotel owners wasn't that bad of a bonus either.

During their sixteen month relationship, she hooked both Tommy and Johnny up to all the exclusive parties. They were living it up better than any of the senior class. The school would've turned into a warzone if people didn't know about Johnny's reputation in beating the shit out of somebody; even the cops or counselors wouldn't touch him unless they had a nice rack for him to focus on. But that wasn't the case for High School. Eleanor was a beautiful, free loving girl who loved to dance and live for the modeling world.

By the time fall semester rolled around for junior year to start, things were going downhill. It was around the their two year anniversary, and what would celebrate sixteen months to have it go up in flames when someone close to you is getting it on in your own bed? Eleanor was "sick" one day and didn't go to school. Their folks were out of town and Bobby thought it would be good to release the personal stress by savoring the vanilla flavored treats his twin brother was having. Bobby went from distant from his blood to just not caring. He felt he didn't belong in his own family anymore just because he chose not to learn how to fight. A couple occasions Tommy kept trying to get his brother in tip top shape, but he wouldn't have it. Bobby was barely getting by in school and going out to raves every night felt like a good way to feel wanted. After sophomore year ended, he wanted to try something riskier. It was his brother he thought so the consequences wouldn't affect him as much. Tommy didn't know how he felt when Eleanor cheated on him and had no remorse doing it.

"_I thought we had something, Ellie." _Tommy said feeling betrayed.

"_We do. I'm just helping out another person in need." _She replied caressing Bobby's face.

"_So you fuck my brother in my bed?"_

"_Now now Tommy, that's a callous way to describe this image. If you wanted a threesome, all you had to do was peel down and join us, baby."_

"_Or better yet, ask your best friend Johnny Gat to hook you up with his sloppy seconds." _Bobby suggested.

"_I can't believe I'm hearing this." _Tommy said walking out of the room in anger.

Eleanor called out Tommy's name as she got out of bed with the sheets wrapped around her. She got his attention before he went downstairs.

"_What your brother and I have, it-it's nothing. We're just having fun."_

"_Toying with a man's emotions is what you consider fun?" _He asked her.

"_You can't deny you enjoyed the chase. Most guys in your shoes wouldn't be able to hack it after a month. Come on admit it, Tommy. All those parties with you and Johnny, the senior class should be kissing your feet, or kick your ass but that doesn't bother neither of you two. We still have something special."_

"_Tommy, how is it you never have condoms in your room?! What if something slipped inside Ellie?" _Bobby shouted, embarrassing both Tommy and Eleanor.

"_Just…get out of my house." _

"_Sweetie, my future in modeling is going to be the saving grace of Stilwater. You think I'll cry in a corner because we didn't work out? Fine, go back to fighting for peanuts in Chinatown."_

As Eleanor got her clothes and left their home, Tommy felt it was time to go as well. He didn't know when he was coming back, if at all. Bobby may have felt disconnected from his family, but with her gone and no one else to turn to besides his other "lovely" options he had never felt so alone. Tommy didn't care; he felt betrayed his own brother would go behind his back and sleep with the one girl he may have had genuine feelings for. He would've had any other girl in the school, or make it look like he did since he was always chasing the well -developed seniors around the gym like a lovesick horn dog.

The evening of Eleanor's departure, the brothers didn't utter a word to each other. Tommy was packing up his clothes and other belongings before heading out to his grandfather's house. Being it was his mother's father, this was a last resort, to take orders from a hardened crime boss while thinking about taking his fighting skills to professional standards. He went deep into Chinatown's underworld, filled with smoke, sweat, and hidden violence just waiting to burst out in every direction. Constricting crowds prevented Tommy from reaching a restaurant where it was Wong's place of business. Tommy remembered he was doing renovations to the place and thought it would be a good time to speak to him. Moving out of the crowds and into rush hour streets, he saw the restaurant across the street. Two bodyguards were guarding the front doors; Tommy went up to them and stated who he was in Mandarin.

" _私はここで__Wong__氏は、を参照してください選んだらにします。 彼は私のお祖父さんのします。_

_(I'm here to see Mr. Wong. He's my grandfather.)_

"_We're in America, kid. Outside this place you speak it." _One bodyguard said.

"_I'm sorry." _Tommy apologized, feeling awkward.

"_Mr. Wong is very busy inside. The restaurant is under construction, and will not be opened for another six months. If you need to speak to him, you make an appointment."_

"_Perhaps he told you about me. I'm Thomas Kwong, son of Alicia Wong. I know the last names aren't distinguishable, but if you can tell him his grandson is here."_

"_Kid, do you know how many hobos live on street corners, how many out of work Chinese folks who claimed to have a connection to Mr. Wong? Unless you want the authorities up your ass, take a walk!"_ The other bodyguard violently suggested.

Tommy looked down on the ground for a second, looked back up at them and started taking two steps forward before taking a severe risk on his life. He could dodge punches and throws, but not bullets. Most likely he was about to avoid the latter really soon. He landed in front of one guard, broke one of his knee caps with his left foot and took refuge behind 200lbs of human flesh. The other guard broke out his Mac-11 and Tommy pushed his guard into the other while six shots burst into the sky, sending everyone in a panic.

Tommy ran around the side of the restaurant and saw a drainage pipe four feet above him. He was scrambling in his head in how to adapt to the situation; his legs were his strongest tools. With the tip of his right foot firmly pressed against the building next to the restaurant, he quickly jumped high and managed to grab the pipe by skin of his teeth. However, he nearly lost that thread of skin when the two bodyguards ran around the corner and began shooting. He got one bullet caught in his backpack as he made it on top of the roof.

From there, he looked around every direction to look for a way inside. There were no glass ceilings or trap doors. However, he found the roof access door and hauled ass inside before any bodyguards decided to go Crouching Tiger. After running down two flights of stairs, he found a door leading into a tea house section of the restaurant. He opened slightly and peaked out; no guards from what he was able to see.

Walking through the uneasy threshold, Tommy was getting vibes just as uneasy. He could hear the chatter of anxious bodyguards closing in on his location, and standing in an unfinished tea house with wide open space it was very hard to find a hiding spot. There were some old construction tools along with a hard hat and an orange vest to sport a construction worker. He was running out of options so he acted quickly and disguised himself. A few guards came up to the tea house and looked around to only see one worker nailing some wood into the foundation. Tommy had his back turned as they were searching around and by luck he found some goggles in the vest's left pocket. Suddenly, one of the guards got his attention.

"_ちょっと、皆はレストランの外での作業に割り当てられます。"_

_(Hey, everyone is assigned to work on the outside of the restaurant.)_

"_私はここで昼食にした。 健二私のポスト私のしているまで。"_

_(I only came up here for lunch. Kenji's got my post until I'm done.)_

The guard grew very suspicious as he stood over Tommy. He could feel his shoulder pressed slightly as he was turned over to have his true face revealed. He acted once more when he saw a tazer dropping out of his expensive suit. Tommy grabbed it and gave him 10,000 volts to get the fried rice sweating out of his pores. He wanted to avoid conflict for as long as possible until he could get to his grandfather and plead his case.

The unfinished tea house was like a maze filled with Chinese rats and weapons ready to fire on an unwelcomed teenager. He had a few close calls running through the metallic pillars holding the roof in place and running into dead ends made of drywall. He then saw another door with six guards searching the area; the steps in that area had loud acoustics. Being put in dire straits again wasn't what he had in mind for a late evening. Tommy wanted to get out regardless so he hoofed it to the red door with footsteps alerting the guards to follow its sound.

Just before he could reach the handle he almost got his hand shot off by a crafty guard. That encounter didn't end clean when Tommy got nicked in his upper right thigh by a bullet. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," He kept saying to himself. He found himself standing on a walkway overlooking a very sophisticated office, Wong's no doubt. After a struggling climb down the ladder, his leg almost gave out and had both hands landing on the edge of the smooth, wooden desk with Wong's sign. For a brief moment, he looked around the room and saw old pictures of Wong along with Tommy's mother. For a crime lord, he sure was nostalgic, and rightfully so in his mind. The sliding doors slid wide open and had the entire security personnel entering with guns beading on him. Tommy put his hands up as one guard came up to him and took the backpack to inspect its contents.

"_You're fast, young man. We'll give you that."_ One guard acknowledged.

"_Come back when you're a little older. Wong prefers his soldiers to be groomed with both discipline and loyalty, which you have neither. Leave this place."_

"_I don't want trouble." _Tommy said turning around with leg bleeding. _"Who shot me; you?"_ He asked pointing at a man wearing a green blazer. _"You're one hell of a shot. What's your name?"_

"_Final warning,"_ Another guard threatened.

Tommy was getting a little ticked about guns being pointed at him. With adrenaline setting in his veins he jumped behind the desk and lifted up a black, leather chair and threw it at two guards. He then leaped onto the desk and made his stand as the other guards threw aside their weapons and decided to go mano a mano on him. After bashing two skulls together, side handing another in the Adam's apple, he recalled a few moves his father taught him on close quarters combat. However, with all the training he did it wasn't long until the tide was turned against him.

These bodyguards just wouldn't quit he thought as he was punching and suddenly having an uncanny ability to leap really high behind someone. Five minutes later, the scuffle ended when Mr. Wong's translator, Fei Yen came in to clear the air. His presence had enough authority to have the guards stand up straight as they provided a short, clear path to Tommy.

"_Fei, sorry I caused a ruckus."_ Tommy said to him.

"_Don't worry about it, Mr. Kwong. Gentlemen, _he addressed the others, _I'm afraid there has been a misunderstanding. This is indeed Alicia's son, Thomas Kwong. You would do best to stay your weapons and blind devotion until Mr. Wong has a look at him. How's the leg?"_

"_Flesh wound, it's nothing."_ Tommy replied.

"_Who took the shot?"_ Fei asked the group.

A guard in a blue blazer stepped forward with apprehension dripping on his face. Tommy noticed fear; he had only heard a few things his grandfather had done as a crime lord. As for his followers, he couldn't speak much for them; all he wanted was some tea and to meet his grandfather after the seventh or eighth time he asked politely. Fei escorted both the blazer guard and Tommy back downstairs towards the main level of the restaurant. Mr. Wong was sitting at a distant table in the upper left hand corner of the establishment. Fei stood at Wong's side and chose to remain silent as judgment was to be done the only way he knew how. The remaining guards gathered in the same area. He had them stand straight in a horizontal formation. He then ordered Tommy to stand up and make a fateful decision.

"_Your leg is dirtying up my carpet. You understand what needs to be done, or does your mother still keep the truth hidden?"_

"_I'm familiar with your methods." _Tommy said keeping his composure.

"_Which one of my men took the shot?"_

"_He's wearing a blue blazer."_

"_These men have all studied under me, men who had families slaughtered from idiocy and gang violence. I trust them with my life. We're in the crosshairs of a war on the outside, Thomas. The Carnales and the Vice Kings are spilling lots of blood for control. Chinatown is all I have left; many who have fought at my side kept this part of the city intact. However, when one chooses to act outside my will, threatens the life of my own grandson,_ he continued as held his revolver behind the guard's head, _he must be punished."_

The loud roar of his bullet crackling through the skull of one his guards led the rest of his personnel to plead with their lives. From Tommy's point of view, each guard who had experienced pain in some way didn't only come from their past. More blood was spilt, and it made more of a mess than he'd liked. Wong ordered the others to get rid of the body and have a couple cleaners take care of the small damages from both the tea house and the restaurant carpets.

Before Fei went along to supervise the tasks, he went to go get some bandages and some antiseptic for Tommy's wound. The crime lord and his potential disciple had a proper sit down to discuss his future. Wong wasn't the one to apologize for the scene he caused. Tommy knew what he was capable of, but then again he himself understood what he was capable of and wanted to take things to the next level.

"_Care for some tea?" _Wong asked.

"_Sure. Thanks."_ He replied as he poured some into both of their cups. _"Just to clear the air, Bobby and I aren't really on the best of terms right now. In fact, dating back to quite a while he and I haven't been acting like brothers."_

"_How so; is he sick?" _He asked following an awkward silence. _"What was her name?"_

"_I'm sorry..?"_

"_I've had similar circumstances about two siblings fighting over some one night stand that wasn't all that appealing to begin with. Now what was her name?"_

"_Eleanor Green. Earlier today I came home and found Bobby sleeping with her in my bed. After that…I didn't feel like living under the same roof as him."_

"_Is that the only reason?"_

"_My parents have taught me the ways of Wing Chun, jiu-jitsu, and judo. I feel like I've been flying through life with not much to show for it. Losing a girlfriend is one thing; chasing teenage models is more Bobby's forte. What I'm proposing is a chance to take what I've learned and make a living on it."_

"_Has your parents approved of this direction?"_

"_I wouldn't know. My father's swamped at the Pentagon and mom is overseas teaching young tae kwon do students in Tokyo. I don't know when they'll be back. Look, I'm not saying give me an expensive car and the prize money from a fighting tournament I haven't entered yet. Guess what I'm really asking is another roof over my head. I want to live with you."_

"_I see. Your mother won't approve of this. I trust you know that?"_ He asked as Tommy agreed. _"What I can do is offer you the studio apartment a few blocks from here."_

"_I know of it. Dad taught me some CQC when I was younger."_

"_Also, being the "responsible" member of our family I trust you will finish your High School education before meeting the real world? As for money…"_

"_With all due respect, I want a legitimate job. I'll find one my own way."_

"_Understood; we'll see where your future takes you, Thomas."_ He said giving a firm handshake. _"For the record, it's good to see my other grandson taking actual initiative. I thought Robert's influence rubbed off on you."_ He concluded as both were chuckling.

Both came to an understanding, and Wong saw great promise in Tommy that he might become a great fighter someday. The next day he went back to his own home to pick up the rest of his stuff. Luckily, Bobby wasn't there to badger him on a decision that didn't include forgiving him for taking his girl, or imploring one more breath of a chance to dust off the things he learned in fighting as well. As far as Tommy was concerned, Bobby was on his own in both school and whatever was going to happen in life. His parents on the other hand, the word "skeptical" was a bit of an understatement coming from his mother.

Three weeks after Tommy settled in at the Studio Apartment, she stopped by Wong's illegally owned venture and imposed the fact Tommy's place with his grandfather was a direct insult to his own family. Each time he talked about his future she didn't want to hear it; the fact about her father's shadow eclipsing over him made her fear for his life. But surprisingly that wasn't the worst of it. Bobby went missing for four weeks, wasn't showing up for school or evening prayer at least. Eleanor was nowhere to be found either; her parents were more worried about their own problems and how her modeling fame wasn't going to rectify them.

Tommy was training at the time while working on Algebra homework. It was still junior year; Tommy thought it'd be wise to tell her off about how he had to think about his future and how his grandfather wasn't a big influence in making his decisions. He was already looking into fighting schools in L.A. and Sacramento, hadn't decided on either of them yet. After two hours of arguing about what justified what, his mother gave him an ultimatum: "Come back home, or be discarded of the Kwong name forever." As she left the apartment, he sensed her voice holding back that statement and just wanted him to come back home to look for Bobby.

Down the line, Tommy found work as a delivery boy of Chinese takeout. While he continued telling his story to the Saints he delved a little further into that memory because it was the first time he met a girl who was well versed in both street fighting and going undercover. She was only 19; her name was Lin. Lin was living in a tenement building along with her little sister, Danielle. Both were living together; no folks to hold them back from doing what they had to do to survive.

Tommy remembered their first encounter because of some street thug with an expensive race car crashed Tommy's delivery car off the side of the road in front of the building. The whole back end was totaled. The thug himself, Kim Dejong, was 160lbs of pure muscle. He could've been one of those bad asses riding motorcycles they showcase on magazines. Being the glistening, black tank top wearing douchebag Lin considered him to be, he walked to both of them and caused a bit of trouble. It was funny Tommy thought; guys around Lin always make cracks about her not being ladylike because she bathes in motor oil and throws beat downs on ass holes who deserve it.

A few years after knowing her and what kind of profession Danielle was in guys got more confused; price men pay for falling under great breasts. Long story short, Dejong was scared off when he saw what Lin was capable of. Even Tommy was a little scared in how she handled business.

"_This town can't get enough douchebags running with their tails between their legs. Sorry 'bout your ride."_ She said as Tommy was still in awe. _"Hey Mr. No soul food guy, you awake?"_

"_Uh, uh yeah I am."_ He said as he picked up the takeout bag. _"Here you go."_

"_This trash heap ain't going to get you back to Chow's Shack."_ She said looking around the delivery car. _"The front tires are worn out. I know a guy who can hook you up as a favor to me."_

"_Thanks but…I didn't do anything."_ Tommy said being modest.

Quite the contrary she told him. She heard about the joyrides and party scenes Johnny Gat told her about. She knew both of them by reputation, but never actually hung out with them. Since this was the first time Tommy and Lin met each other, it was only under a favor that she brought the car over to a garage repair shop a kid named Samson set up to fix cars for anyone living in the neighborhood. The next thing he remembered in relation to Lin was Johnny visiting his apartment two months later as he was exercising.

Johnny had only visited a few times before, not so much his mother or Bobby. There was an underground fight club downtown looking to give young fighters a chance to win some cash and let out some frustration. Tommy clearly saw the amount of frustration he was bestowing on unlucky rookies when Johnny was kicking their asses and taking their money.

"_Is there no guy in this city you wouldn't bash his skull in?"_ Tommy asked him.

"_What, these scars? It goes with the territory. Come on Tom, why are you stuck washing dishes at Chow's ball sack?"_ He asked as Tommy looked at him funny. _"Seriously, that guy hasn't showered in fucking months; even the insects are dropping like flies, literally. Anyway, this is a great opportunity; it's a chance to lay down some face rearranging and earn money so you can buy me beer since my wallet's dry. With you and I tag teaming together, we can take this city. No Carnale or VK will dare step up to us. What do you say?"_

"_How's the money there?" He sighed._

"_A Ben Frank for rookies; move up the ladder you can earn up to four grand. Now that's serious money for rebels like us. I can't mooch off Ellie's entourage anymore so…"_

"_Her and my brother disappeared. I've been doing some city recon to look for them. Why would he just take off for no reason; what if one of the gangs got him? Damn, I'm doing it again. I'm worrying too much."_

"_Eh, if you ask me they lost out. I mean hey, he has loose taste for tight snatches and not much else. I'm just saying, let the 5-0 deal with it. Send a fucking missing persons report or something."_

"_Must be great not having responsibilities."_ Tommy told him as he was drying his hair up with towel.

"_That's the perks of not having parents blowing up in your face."_ Johnny replied before looking away. _"Alright, here's the address to the fighting cages."_ He said giving Tommy a flier. _"Who knows, we might find Lin there. Fight on my brotha."_

Sitting on the center of his training mat, he went over his current priorities and thought over whether or not if Johnny's offer was legit as a quick way in earning some cash. As he looked over the flier, the name of the fighting cages was "Gremlin's Bluff"; it was one of his grandfather's small owned businesses. Unlike his mother, Wong always encouraged Tommy to find ways to take his skills to the next level. The last time he heard from her was over a month before on an answering machine, reminding him she still couldn't find Bobby yet, and that she hoped Tommy was happy in abandoning both him and his family for a selfish path. He tried calling twelve times after that over the course of several weeks. She didn't call back.

Chow's Shack was starting to turn into a bust in terms of payment for Tommy's efforts in delivering takeout. The only perk he got out of it was visiting Lin every Friday night and giving her the food she ordered. Half the time she wasn't there, but her sister Danielle was. For the most part, she liked him. At times, it still puzzled him how a girl at age eleven can smile at a man smelling like old pork grease and car exhaust. A few years when she came of age, he was sent into a whole new world where the younger of the two Hitano sisters was fighting professionally.

With all the memories flooding back, he was still getting ahead of himself. Getting his grandfather's permission wasn't difficult, but the training was kicked into high gear while schoolwork was put to the side. The next cage match was conveniently a tag team event; Wong and his translator Fei offered themselves as formidable opponents for the Asian brothers to spar against. It went from physical prowess to sword training which caught Tommy by surprise. Johnny reminded him of a small detail when it came to the regulations for fighting in the arena.

Anything goes he told him: wrestling, brutal beat downs, fancy high kicks, beating somebody over with either a thick tire or a cinder block, and of course a segment of the match reserved for the more experienced cage fighters is conventional weapons matches. By the time Tommy turned 18, around mid-April it was time for their first tag team match. When they got to the arena, the lines were massive, circling around the arena like nobody's business.

"_This is it, my brotha." _Johnny said._ "Today, we earn the respect of the people in Stilwater. Here's hoping these people love blood spattering all over the place 'cause I don't recognize half the line. You ready for this?"_

"_Fuck Johnny, are we going to win our Ben Franklins or are we just going to sit here jerking each other off?" _Tommy asked getting out of the car soon after.

"_That's my boy." _

Both got out of Johnny's old beat up convertible he lifted from a couple of casino dwellers a few months back. Lin fixed up the interior after it broke down two days later. Ironically so, they both saw Lin at a back entrance to the arena. She saw them and signaled them to run on over. They snuck through a side entrance to reach the locker rooms for preparation.

Lin was cool with of the bouncers working at the arena, got them in without any hassles. New rules were added last time Gat showed up, and that was upping the ante for more cash prizes. The new rules posted in the boys' locker room showed the number of rounds and how long fighters can last in each round. Whoever survived past ten minutes would win three grand; any less than that and the money amount goes up.

Three minutes granted $6,000, and as far as Johnny knew nobody won a cage royale under sixty seconds. He and Tommy were tag teaming while Lin was going to stand alone against five, pissed off job layoffs, all who used to work for construction or Neon Corp.; a twisted version of Wall Street. Suddenly, the announcer of the beat down event called all fighters to the ramp.

"_Quick pep talk: leave no one standing. If your opponent isn't bitching for his mommy, you're not doing it right."_ Lin explained.

"_He'll be bitching for a fucking skull transplant when I'm through with him."_ Johnny replied.

"_When we win, we're getting hammered." _Tommy said.

"_Good luck to the both of ya."_ Lin said before walking out of the locker room before looking at Tommy.

Lin was up first. She was sporting gear that combined the tailoring of a street brawler and a gymnast. With her hair locked up and brass knuckles at the ready, she stood in the center as the announcer spoke of a new contender fighting in the fray. On the sidelines, Tommy thought cage fighting was a hobby of hers. She used to throw down all the time with Danielle, but then again it was for survival.

What rose from the darkness of the bloodthirsty crowd were the five jerk-offs; each one looked like a reject from different mafias. One was Italian, Irish; she placed her hand on her forehead at the stupidity that was engraved on their t-shirts. They clearly weren't seasoned in the cage arts she thought, but some virtues such as experience and skill became foreign when they picked up shanks and cinder blocks as defensive weapons. She looked around the arena and saw no weapon was thrown to her. She loved a challenge.

Once the bell rang the match began. Each opponent spread to different corners as if they were going to gang up on her. As they all ran their interconnected path, Lin leaped high and the other jerk-offs stopped themselves while one of them got their lower jaw slanted by a cinder block. She landed behind them and whistled for them to try again. They got around her and she sent one flying as she kicked him in the chest, followed by her turning around and landing an uppercut on another holding a rusty garrote. For a brief moment she used the weapon against him with its heavy handles and made some new dents on his face.

Then suddenly another jerk-off restrained her from behind by clenching her stomach. Another guy dropped his cinder block and landed four, hard hitting punches. It was part of her plan all along she thought. Improvising in a fight can be dangerous, but it can make you unpredictable and have the crowds rooting for the underdog instead of the opposing side. After another five punches to her gut and face she used her lower body to grab hold of the guy's head.

Three seconds flat she K.O. her first victim with a broken neck. The crowd cheered at the sound of neck bones breaking. She then swung her hands at the restrainer and threw him full force against the cage itself. Performing a jumping kick on another jerk off that was coming at her left she then grabbed ahold of his long neck beard, dragging him on the arena floor. She pulled him up just so she could deck the guy right in the nose.

Soon after, she demanded for him to get up, to bring her a challenge. Neither Tommy nor Johnny could explain it, but Lin managed to dodge a baseball bat with bloody nails attached just a nanosecond before it reached the back of her head. Johnny almost felt it too; she was really appealing to the crowd by extending her moment in the arena to shine, and put five jerk-offs to shame. Lin turned around and saw the bat wielding punk; she ran a few fast steps before sliding under him and twisted his manhood. His glass breaking screech said it all after he dropped the bat, tapping out soon after.

Three jerk offs remained. Lin got her warm-up out of the way and lifted two cinder blocks for some cage redecorating. Both kept their distance as they were wielding shanks and anticipating for the right moment to strike. One guy acted as she maneuvered around him and tossed her first cinder block for a new cage paint job. Tommy's heart skipped two beats when her throw sent the guy's head in flying chunks at the crowd.

"_Jesus. How long have you known Lin?"_ Tommy asked him.

"_It wasn't long enough to see her do that; me likey."_ Johnny replied eating popcorn.

Before contending with the remaining two, one of them had a major axe to grind with Lin, concerning the head she just imploded. It hit this guy in particular closer to home.

"_How…could you?"_

"_Rules of the game shit head."_ Lin said spitting out some blood and flexing. _"Come on!"_

"_That was my brother you sent to the crowd, bitch. That's one mistake you won't live to regret."_ He mumbled to himself with shank ready to stab and jab.

The grieving cage brawler was the biggest muscle out of the five; three hundred pounds combined of flab and muscle. Their scuffle began by strafing around each other until the big guy refused to wait. He had a fist with enough force to turn Lin into a squashed meat sack. She back flipped out of the way while the last guy was still standing in the corner. She looked at him going "are you kidding me?" before getting impacted with fierce wind blowing on her back. Without warning, she got body slammed against the cage. He backed away for a bit to see if she still had any fight left.

She didn't move which had Tommy concerned before she got picked up by the back of her shirt and was dragged towards the spot where the bat was. Lin was exhaling while feeling slightly disoriented. She was then hung on a hanging piece of cage metal, ready to have candy exploding out of her stomach. Dragging the back from behind him, Lin secretly lowered the shank she lifted from his pocket. Suddenly as a crowd treat, she pressed a button that was on the handle. It shot the blade out and punctured his right eye.

The jerk-off was sent backwards while dropping the bat, struggling to get the blade out. Lin pushed herself back onto solid earth and laid into the guy more ferociously than the others. The guy bounced back and slammed the front of his hand onto her face to make her feel disoriented again. This time it was different; everything was spinning, and all she heard was the sound of the blade being pulled out. This round in particular put both opponents in a standstill.

"_This profession isn't for you. So you killed two of our guys; it doesn't make you a champion. You got lucky."_ He said walking towards her. _"I hear your sister is very fluent in cage fighting, and at such a young age."_

"_Fuck…you."_ Lin said.

"_You know I did show respect for your mother. Wanna know how she burned in that tenement building you stew in? My brother Reese and I fucked her, then got tired of her Geisha pussy and burned her."_ He continued before getting his ear chomped off.

Blood was officially flying all over the arena as the jerk-off was squirming on the ground in pain. Lin got her senses back in sync and got up to finish him off.

"_Who said you can get up?!"_ She asked as she kicked his teeth in and stomped on his chest.

"_You're a street racing whore. That's all you'll ever be good at. No boyfriend, no close relatives. You're going to die alone."_

"_That's where you're wrong, shit for brains."_ She said picking up the bat. _"I do have a family. At least when I go out I'll know what it's for."_

He started chuckling as she raised the nail bat over his head, sending it into his thick dome thereby ending his life, but it didn't stop there. She continued beating a dead guy with the bat over and over until the last guy made a stupid move in trying to stop her. After eight hits on a man tied to her past, she sent a ninth to the last pussy standing. Not a moment too soon, after a shocking silence the crowd stood up, and cheered so loud it was setting the arena's roof on edge. Johnny spaz out over the bloody victory Lin achieved, all in three minutes and thirty-eight seconds.

The feat was so grand it took Tommy by surprise after thinking back to that time at the Lounge. It was a difficult time for Lin and Dani; the death of their burning mother and the feel of revenge fueling Lin to track down the men responsible. It was old fashioned revenge, but in some cases it all depends in how you dish it out. She won $4,500 that day while the tag-team event gave the Asian brothers a good $3,000 each. They could've won more on Johnny's front, but it was rare for him to see a woman go all out on some douchebag who took a stab at her family. Family was very important to him.

Nevertheless, all three left the arena with their pockets bulging with beer money and hunger for Freckle Bitches double deck burgers with greasy, delicious bacon and cheese. They met back at Lin's place for a celebration of brawler's glory. They convened in the living room that didn't really match her personality all that much. A part from having a side hobby for cage fighting, she was also an up and coming street racer in Chinatown. Not even her own car was updated to the 21st Century; she usually keeps her top of line drifters at an auto body shop a few blocks from the building. It was smart Tommy said especially with the Vice Kings and their sticky hands on more than just underage girls. Before they dug into the curly fries, Dani wasn't in the living room with them.

"_Yo Danielle, if you don't get out here you can kiss your curly fries goodbye!"_ Johnny shouted up at the ceiling.

"_Little punk's probably hitting the punching bag. "I'll be right back."_ Lin said getting up while Johnny slowly reached out for her curly fries. _"Don't even fucking think about it!"_

"_Girl loves her curly fries."_ Johnny told him.

"_Hope Dani's doing okay."_ Tommy said biting into his burger.

Whenever the dinner bell came a ringing, Dani would be the first downstairs after a training session of kick boxing, and pretty much the last to clear the table. Her metabolism was like a fiery garbage disposal; whether it was Lo Mein or a big spaghetti dinner she would never feel full and would go out for ice cream later on. This time, unknown to Tommy and Johnny, Dani was hungry for the news in what her sister did to the jerk-offs responsible for the death of their mother. In the past life, she had a title going on in both Chinatown and some parts of Los Angeles known as the "Drift Queen". She raced high end cars as if she was the main star of a Fast and Furious film. Lin definitely inherited her mother's genes in having a rebellious attitude against those who didn't mind their own business. That pissed some people off a great deal.

One afternoon, she was due for a race in LA under the guise of the Italian Mob. It was a few weeks after Dani was born. Reese Conway and Gino Angelo were the hit men responsible for the tenement blaze. It couldn't have happened at a worst time. The July heat wave was dominating Angelinos and the drift race was no better. Not only that, it was open season for cops to come out and run some stolen cars off the road.

Xang Hitano had only this race before she raised enough cash to get out of Chinatown and start living a different life elsewhere. Well, in Stilwater it doesn't always turn out like that. When you're born in the big city, it keeps its claws inside the lumbar of your spine, never letting you go unless gang violence takes you out unexpectedly. But in this case, it was a fire set by a small Italian Mob in LA. Xang was framed for running over the boss's nephew when he was coming home from football practice.

She was still pregnant at the time. Dodging the cops and driving her way back to Stilwater wasn't easy; things got a little too heated when cars started shooting bullets at the side of her car. Reese and Gino were sitting in a yellow van at the opposite side where the tenements were. As soon as she ran inside to get her daughters, five seconds later the building went up in fiery embers as if Satan was in the market purchasing the property himself. Lin was walking home from school until she saw the smoke up in the sky. She ran inside with her heart beating louder than the fire truck engines, trying to look for her mother and Dani.

It was a miracle Dani survived. It was a ten story building with the fire only reaching half way. By the time Lin made it to the fourth floor it was already too late. She was a charred corpse sticking out of a metal railing. Ever since that day, she and Dani moved out of California for a while until they were able to come back. Lin had been raising her as both a sister and a mother. On some days she was still treating Dani more like a daughter instead of a sister. Justice was finally delivered in the cage fight that was secretly organized by Lin herself. Entering her room, Dani was taking a break and was reading a Hot Rod magazine filled with American muscle that could put male gym goers to shame.

"_Hey punk,"_ Lin said standing in the doorway barely standing up.

"_Cage fighting doesn't suit you, girl."_ She chuckled. _"Did those guys take the bait?"_

Lin nodded and almost collapsed on the floor. Dani grabbed her and she had a smile bigger than the moon with tears running down her cheeks. She helped her over to her bed to find out what happened.

"_It's over…those assholes will never harass us again."_ Lin said in relief.

"_I wish I was there. Reese and Gino, they were there too?"_

"_Nobody's going to recognize them. That's for sure."_

"_It's finally over."_ Dani replied.

"_We can rest easy sis. Listen, food's downstairs; got ya a fun bag."_

"_Johnny probably ate all the curly fries hasn't he?"_

"_Give him a punch in the gut for me. Lord knows he needs it. I'll be with you guys in a minute; go on."_ Lin said before Dani left the bedroom.

"_Mom's smiling down on us. She can finally rest too."_ Dani smiled.

Later on in the evening day, Johnny took off and had to meet with a reliable contact. Tommy stayed awhile joking around with Dani. Every time he's around her, Lin, or Johnny, it was like his old family was ceasing to exist. He didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but at least his grandfather made sure he was well looked after, better than he looked out for Bobby anyway. Wherever he was out in Stilwater, he hoped he was doing fine. Tommy skipped ahead two years after his High School career was all said and done, but Johnny jumped on stage at Rorsky's begging to differ. He went on about not remembering much of his senior year, just the fine luscious, Columbian number named Lorena Hernandez; the principal's wife.

"_You really want to talk about senior prom?"_ Tommy asked him.

"_It's an awesome memory! How many here have gone to Stilwater High? Eh…that's what I thought." _Johnny said running up to the stage. _"This is a juicy story. I don't remember all the details but I can give you a wank friendly description. Mm Lorena, fucks like a bull and always gets off on good looking Asian males. Didn't she ask for your number at one point?"_

"_I wouldn't know. I remember the nooners you've had with her though. It was a wonder she was so relaxed." _Tommy said.

"_I remember getting pissed 'cause I couldn't transfer over to her Spanish class. I got you back at the prom. Her dildo stuffed husband kept riding me about Phys. Ed., how I was making the entire football team shit themselves when I went one on one with their team Captain. I didn't even want to join the team."_

"I've heard of this principal. He used to be silver member of Tee 'N' Ay when I was still Olga. Miguel kicked him out because he was crying a lot and not paying for the girls' time." Lacey shouted in the audience.

"_In this town I've learned to tip your waitresses, and if you're feeling depressed for fuck's sake leave a fifty for the lady's troubles. She's got bills to pay, you know?"_ Tommy said.

"That's my point exactly." Lacey smiled.

"_Sorry Johnny, you were saying?"_

"_Moral of the story: High School is nothing compared to what's out there on the streets. Hell, High School is just a playground for you to experiment on how to keep douchebags off your back. Best thing we can do is look out for each other; whether you're in jail or on the verge of dying, the Row will always have your back. Sorry man; the floor is yours again."_

Tommy continued to jump ahead two years after High School and was already gaining a reputation in the cage fighting community. Chinatown and his grandfather lent their support to see him make it to the big leagues. However on Johnny's front, he only appeared scarcely at matches while other times he was elsewhere. There will always be a calling for somebody in Stilwater, and like Tommy finding his calling in taking his skills to the professional level Johnny found his calling a little closer to home. Within two years of hardcore martial arts training and sword wielding, in the cage arena he was racking up twelve victories in both street fighting and martial arts categories, seven knockouts of cinder block fun and knocking teeth, and only five submissions because of the fighters were either made of granite or Tommy was treading thin ice with more experienced fighters.

By the time he reached nineteen, he grew tired of daily cage fights and wanted to negotiate an upgrade to the absolute professional leagues. There was only one place where not only people fight, but to the death. No Holds Barred was the name of that sanctum where a group of experienced warriors of the cage enter, and only one person walks out alive. His grandfather was hesitant about it, felt like Tommy wasn't ready for that kind of challenge. One day at the old studio apartment, his father William paid him a visit without his mother following suit.

During his two years, they have only found leads and faded traces as to where Bobby was. He was indeed with Tommy's ex-girlfriend at one point. They were camping outside a drive-thru Church called "Forgive and forget". His last known location was a motel where he stayed for five days. The room's contents left much to be concerned about. He had worked at the Pentagon for so long sometimes he forgot the differences between reading about the hardships in the world, and not so much experiencing them. By the time Tommy opened the door, William was introduced to his brand new son. He was ripped yet slender at the same time, stuck with a marine haircut with a tattoo of his brother on his upper left arm. William caught him working some old sparring pallets.

"_Son, it's been a while."_ He said putting on a nervous smile.

"_The Pentagon let you out early?"_ Tommy asked suspiciously.

"_You're not a comedian. We need to talk."_

"_Come right in."_ He replied letting him through.

Seeing the old studio apartment sure brought William back a few memories when he used to teach Tommy CQC and meditating. Although it had been two years since Tommy contacted his family, William felt it was longer than that. As he was pouring some mint tea for the both of them, William was confused. He knew someday he would grow up to be a formidable fighter in the real world, but his life was progressing too fast. Scheduled cage matches, appearances at celebrity hang out spots, working towards a green card to get into the No Holds Barred arena to make it even bigger. To him, it was sheer perseverance and nothing else. Both sat down at Tommy's small, round table to catch up.

"_So what's up, what's going on?"_ Tommy asked handing him his tea.

"_First, I want to say how proud I am of you that you made it this far with what you've learned. If only your brother was around; your mother is worried sick. I'd be out there searching every street corner, but there's no sign of him or Eleanor."_

"_I've been looking too."_ Tommy said drinking his tea. _"Obviously you know as well as me we didn't grow up on the street."_

"_Knock on wood still, right?"_

"_Forgive and forget, Freckle Bitches, the strip club; not even the shanties know where he is. There is…one other option. It's a fresh one. I talked it over with grandpa and he said they'd be willing to help."_

"_Thomas, you shouldn't trust him. He's not the reason I'm here though." _He said getting up suddenly. _"We've been out of touch for so long your mother and I don't even recognize you anymore. You don't…you don't visit, you're hanging out with violent street kids doing who knows what, you started a Prom orgy senior year."_

"_Johnny caused that to happen. I told you that!"_ Tommy made clear.

"_Well, you sure didn't try to stop him. It's just that you're moving through life too fast. Quite frankly, it's scaring the hell out of me. Look at you son; you used to be average with a thirst of learning new things. Patience is a virtue for a reason, but you seem to be handling yourself well all things considered. You're not doing drugs are you?"_

"_Dad, I'm fine. I'm moving fast in life because I choose to. Chow's Shack wasn't doing it for me; the Carnales and Vice Kings are making businesses harder to hire. I'm sorry about Bobby's disappearance, but let's be real here."_ Tommy said standing up. _"Where were you?"_

"_Now, Tommy."_ He said before getting interrupted.

"_When Bobby and I were kids, you left to become an Army Ranger. We didn't see you for three years, but we put up with it because I believed you would come back. Now Bobby, he didn't want you home because some nightmare made it so. Then you come back and somehow got a job at the Pentagon. You were barely around since. Remember when I was eight when you took me for our father-son sparring sessions, and I asked you the same question you asked me? You said life doesn't wait for those who live it at their convenience. It constantly changes and evolves as you get older. I guess you can say I took that advice to heart. Whenever you weren't around I held onto that saying like a rope. I'm happy where I am. Are you?"_

For the first time for a man who has been able to counter-argue an issue against politicians at the Pentagon, he couldn't utter another word to Tommy about what he said about moving through life. From Tommy's point of view, he thought he was having a heart attack, but something happened that was even more spine chilling. William put his tea down, and with shock written all over his face he walked out of the studio without so much as a goodbye. Was he too harsh, or did he realize the things William said to him as a boy would ultimately play out unexpectedly? He was proud; scared about the company he kept, but proud nonetheless. He left the apartment feeling that way without getting the actual words out.

Three months after their conversation, Tommy was barely at the studio taking any calls from family. Instead he was pursuing further in his fighting career when he finally reached No holds Barred from an initiation match. Jiu-jitsu, brawling, sword fighting, anticipating his opponent, all were at last attuned for this one moment. Since then he was scoring victories by learning from his past mistakes. When the circumstances became dire, however rare, he would submit to an opponent way more experienced.

At this point he would just punch through the pain. The money was palpable, and Johnny and Lin becoming huge supporters throughout his career helped him stay grounded. It was one of the reasons he didn't get a house of his own. Johnny chose to remain a street thug never forgetting his roots. Aside from that, the chicken dumplings he would get from his grandfather's newly renovated restaurant was to die for.

Speaking of never straying from one's roots, Johnny came across a rumor about a female cage fighter working the same ropes as Tommy did when he was making his bones in the cage fighting circuit. For two Chinatown sisters, they couldn't be more separate. Lin was gaining a rep in Chinatown as a street racer with one of the best known chop shops in the country: Rim Jobs with her friend Samson being the running sponsor through all her races and helping her tuning up in between. Back on the fighting circuit, Danielle Hitano gained a new name that was a force to be reckoned with when it came to the fighting style of MMA.

She was known in bloody circles as Dani D-struction: fifteen wins, five losses, and a first in a female fighter's career, no submissions. Tommy took a day out of his schedule to head back to the underground club for one last fight Dani was going to go up against. News around Stilwater spoke of a new gang in town, and it didn't take long to make a name on the streets sometime after the Westside Rollerz were buying out Rim Job businesses across the board. These street kids in particular were wearing purple shirts, hats, silver bling, and last time he saw Johnny he was talking with someone who might've been the leader of the new gang. Lin's contact at the arena recognized him with eyes widened, and invited him to join her at the box seats. Going from a street tomboy to developing quite nicely over the past couple years, Lin was smoking hot. The look in her eyes was trained to focus on the challenges ahead, but Dani was another story. In the arena, she was giving her opponents zero slack. She moved gracefully like a Giselle while having the nasty kickback of a bull. She didn't use any of the melee weapons thrown to her by the audience; even those didn't help her victims take back the match for them -selves. Tommy surprised Lin by both his presence and a beer.

"_Hey, what's up man?"_ Lin asked hugging him. _"Damn, those roids did a number on you."_

"_I never took steroids."_ Tommy asked in confusion.

"_Ha! I knew it. Johnny owes me $100. Thanks for the beer."_ She replied popping the cap and drinking it.

"_I'll remember to run him over with my car next time I see him. Wow, Dani's finally in the big leagues. How'd she grow up so fast?"_

"_Maybe a certain someone's advice taught her well, something about life doesn't wait for those who live it at their convenience. I always taught her to defend herself from assholes who don't mind their fucking business, but yours is good advice too. She's been asking about you."_

"_Really; looks like she doesn't need my help." _Tommy told her.

"_It's not much as help, more like moral support." _Lin said before her phone went off. _"Talk to Dani after the fight. It's best you hear this from her; I gotta take this."_

He sat back and feasted his eyes on a rising warrior in the embodiment of who was just a sidekick to Lin's street brawling days. However, when welcomed progress for her was being made in front of his eyes, concern grew inside as well. Rumors were a bound about the purple gang running things around the Row. Apart from Johnny getting hollered by its leader, so too was Lin. Their reputations around Stilwater were highly recommended. Tommy didn't understand all the facts about 3rd Street until an hour after the fight where he met Dani outside the arena. It was a rainy afternoon to soothe the heated heads of fighting in the cage.

"_Tommy, _she shouted and ran to him, _hey bro!"_

"_It's been a long time, Dani. You've grown so much." _Tommy replied with a sincere smile.

"_Oh don't start turning into my sister. The motherly glow doesn't bode well with her." _She laughed. _"So what's new?"_

"_Well, apart from having our best friends joining a gang, I'd say life's all car exhaust and hot dogs."_

"_She told you about Saints Row huh?"_

"_Who are the Saints?"_ Tommy asked.

"_They're this new gang coming out of 3__rd__ Street. They own this old church; guys and girls are wearing purple gear. Their leader...Jermaine or something was talking about taking a piece of Stilwater for themselves. From what Lin said, they were smalltime since the mid-nineties, giving the Carnales gang something to be afraid of until one member caused a shit storm leading him to drop his flags. Since then they've been recruiting in secret." _

"_They can't be any worse than the Vice Kings or the Rollerz."_ Tommy said.

"_Their leader seemed sincere about his proposal to Lin about joining. You know Johnny doesn't need an excuse to blow shit up; nice to know he can wear purple doing it."_

"_You think they can be trusted?"_

"_My sis is a big girl. When push comes to gunshot, she'll be pulling the trigger. Tommy, it's really great you're here. I need your opinion on something. Last week, there was an exhibition match where MMA managers around California and New York come to evaluate each fighter. I kicked ass, the managers were impressed by me, and I'm 97% sure a manager from L.A. wants to sign me."_

"_That's awesome, girl."_ He replied ecstatically hugging her. _"You don't seem excited."_

"_The head of this school called Black House Mission wants to help me hone my skills. I live in L.A. for a year and a half, they cover school housing expenses, and the only way I get signed is if I go to the orientation/party."_

"_When do you have to go?"_

"_Tomorrow…" _Dani said feeling down. _"I haven't told Lin yet. She's been chatting with these gang members so much lately she's hardly home. If I don't get the chance by the end of tomorrow, will you come see me off?"_

It was the million dollar question that shouldn't have been conceived Tommy thought. He gave Dani his word he would take her to the airport. That was when it hit him about what his father said when he visited at the studio. Life really was moving too fast. He and Johnny had been friends since they were kids and only knowing the Hitano sisters for a few years.

He didn't anticipate molding a small family into his life, with his brother still missing and his parents not speaking to him things were depressing. Hitting the gym and training at home seemed to be the only ways to keep his mind off the negatives in the world. These days, Tommy couldn't get ahold of Johnny either. They've been hanging out at 3rd Street for the past month, and somehow for both Tommy and Dani they were both struck with intriguing curiosity to pay the old church a visit. The next day he spent some time with Dani.

It was a hot summer day. Her taste buds were screaming for a waffle ice cream sandwich so they made it a date to have a good time. After savoring one of the best inventions ever to be made at a beach, they ran to an unused volleyball court to see if anything Dani remembered from playing in her first two years of High School sunk in. Problem was, either the ball was hit too far or someone was seeing tiny, spinning pallets and training schedules circling around one's head. They had a good laugh about it.

For three hours it was like they were free spirits, free from scheduled matches and apprehension building to tell a sibling she had to go away. That gut feeling hit Tommy again, this time a little harder. Around sun down, the excitement settled down a bit as they were sitting on the sand and looked up at the sky. There weren't a whole lot of days to stop and look up when gang wars were brewing around the city.

"_I've had a lot of fun today."_ Dani told him.

"_It feels like years since I…let loose and be young you know? Maybe that's a good thing."_

"_Some days I don't know if I'm 17 or a 28 year old athlete who hangs out with other fighters all day. It's none of my business. Lin stuck to her guns about guys who used to take advantage of her, but she never held a single grudge over them. That special someone may have been a part of your life; that part shouldn't define you. I'm sorry for prying into that route." _She chuckled nervously.

"_Dani, don't ever be sorry around me. Before you, Lin, or even Johnny, my family felt broken. Aside from their teachings I didn't really have someone to go home to, nor had any friends to hang with. You guys gave me that. I'm grateful for it, even with a hard hitting sister like you."_ He smiled.

"_Maybe when our careers finally sync, we can do this again. All four of us against Stilwater; flipping off gangs just because we can."_

"_I wouldn't go that far, but yeah. I can't believe you have to leave tonight."_

"_Lin has her own battles to fight with this new gang, and I got mine in L.A. But we're definitely keeping in touch."_

"_Keep in touch? I got your numbers on speed dial along with Freckle Bitches. You know those banana shakes are to die for." _

A time of transition hovered over Stilwater like smoke surrounding a burning building. There were four gangs making waves into the city's network, putting the hurt on the Carnales and the Rollerz whenever the Saints had the opportunity to make them weak. They couldn't wipe these gangs out completely since their numbers outmatched them, but Julius had motivational speeches that were enough to carry any soldier in purple through any turf war. It didn't hurt having a champion racer from Chinatown along with a psychopath who knew his way around a 12 gauge. Them along with a new guy named Troy Bradshaw, their ranks were developing diverse personalities that separated them from any other gang.

Normally, gang bangers like the Vice Kings would go behind their boss's back, and cause home invasions that left the police with little evidence to tie the VKs with. Saints Row was a place of salvation and not because the church was their base of operations. Julius saw people around Stilwater hurting both physically and mentally. It didn't get them much traction on Channel 6, mainly because of all the illegal street races that were going on. Tommy was seeing the Saints unfolding into a resourceful gang. The more they grew in both spirit and numbers, the more the Vice Kings were starting to feel nervous. Julius had past ties with their leader Benjamin King. However, that was a story for a later time.

While Johnny and Lin were making the Row safer and intimidating at the same time, Tommy and Dani pursued their own paths that didn't revolve around a gun. That was, until Tommy came home from a meeting from No Holds Barred to find his grandfather and both of his parents sitting in his apartment with dread. At first, he thought they found Bobby in a way they hoped wouldn't have happened.

"_Have a seat, Thomas."_ Wong told him.

"_Is everything okay?"_ Tommy asked putting his stuff on the floor and sitting on his couch.

"_You received this in the mail. I'm sorry I couldn't leave your parents in the dark about this." _

"_My own son…out of everyone else in the world they have to choose him."_ William said in disappointment.

Getting handed a manila envelope with only Tommy's name and a stamp wasn't really a good sign. When he opened it up there was a brochure and information regarding the United States Marines. He took a minute to peruse through its contents and thought about the immense responsibility it would bring him. It would be a nice change of pace he thought. Before meeting Johnny, he had never held a gun before, and had an opportunity to channel the lessons he had learned as a child through his deployment. However, his parents sure had a way of supporting him.

"_I'll need some time to think about this. It could be a great opportunity to learn something new."_

"_You don't have time to waste around thinking. It says there you're getting deployed to Iraq next week." _Alicia replied watching Tommy. _"How can you be so calm about this?"_

"_What do you want me to do mother? I was forced to enlist when I was 18. I'm 20 years old now."_

"_You're still young, Tom. We already lost one son and we barely know how to deal with you anymore."_ Alicia said.

"_Oh so you're giving up on Bobby, just like that? I did my best looking for him. He's a grown man, he can handle himself."_

"_Maybe you don't have to join."_ William chimed in. _"I know some people at the Pentagon who can make a waiver for you to sign so the military can leave you alone."_

"_Maybe this is exactly what I need, dad. I can't deal with all this tension. Our family is broken without Bobby; I get that. But he made his choice a long time ago and as much I hate to think otherwise, this is Stilwater. If you fall inside its underbelly, you better find a way climb back out."_

"_This is all Jonathan's fault. He tainted your honor and you're letting him. Not only that the marines are taking you away from us. What if you don't…I-I-I can't."_ William said looking away.

"_Decision's been made. You were right, I am moving too fast in life. But anything better than letting an ungrateful sibling hold me back. It's my life now."_ He replied with a bitter silence following after.

"_I would have a word with my grandson in private."_ Mr. Wong said to Tommy's parents.

William and Alicia's faces had their color flushed from their skin. They didn't recall him being so cold and final in his decisions at such a young age. Wong would have wanted his parents to hear what he had to say, but he felt too disgusted by their lack of support for Tommy. The past few years had been bearable because of his grandfather. He took Tommy in when he was getting chased by trigger happy guards, honing his skills in the cage fighting community, and progressing at a palpable rate to reach No Holds Barred. Wong was even surprised he made a couple friends throughout his journey to get to where he was at this point. The U.S.M.C. was the next step; was it a good one he thought?

"_Thomas, I have watched you grow from a well-mannered teen to an adult in so short a time. It fills me with pride to know one of my grandsons had the balls to progress at such a fast pace in this city."_

"_Grandpa, do you think I'm ready for something like the marines?"_

"_What does your heart tell you?" _Wong asked.

"_There are four gangs in this city now. They all know how to shoot."_

"_It takes more than firing a gun to be a marine. You have discipline and patience; the marines will just smooth out the edges in those virtues to make you more aware of the horrors around the world."_

"_Like the things you do in your business? Not that I'm judging." _Tommy asked trying to defend himself.

"_Men like us don't always have a say in how we live in a city like this. How you get by in life, is what you do with the hand you're dealt. I say you're going up against some powerful players on that brochure. Question you have to ask yourself now is: Do you have an intimidating poker face, or will you fold when the situation gets tough? You ship off in a week. If you have any unfinished business of your own, I would start handling them now. But no matter what happens you have eternally gained both my love and respect for you, Thomas."_

He took his advice to heart. However, that was only one vote from the one man who had supported him through his ordeals. Yeah, unfinished business he thought, telling Johnny and Lin the hard hitting news was really going to be a cakewalk. As soon as his grandfather left he spent the next two hours in the apartment looking over the information in what he was going to be dealing with as a recruit for the U.S.M.C. It left him feeling queasy in his stomach, and his heart skipping a beat or two rethinking over this decision.

It was inevitable. Suddenly, he got a call from Johnny telling him to meet him over at the Church on 3rd Street to give him the grand tour of his new stomping grounds. He washed up and drove out to the Row to find Johnny making sweet talk with a girl who was wearing purple too. Parking across the street, he had a chance to take one long gander at Gat playing smitten with this girl. Something was slowly changing in Johnny; Tommy couldn't tell for sure. With his marine brochure shaking in his left hand putting it in his back pocket, he walked to the Church to say hello.

"_He-hey Johnny; the fuck is up man?" _Tommy said fist bumping him.

"_Glad you can make it. I'd like you to meet a friend of mine." _Johnny said before she chimed in.

"_My name's Aisha. Johnny told me a lot about you."_

"_Oh really, what'd you tell her about me?"_

"_You're a cross-dressing hobo shaking his sword at everybody if he doesn't get fifty cents for a soda pop."_ He said as Johnny's jaw dropped.

"_He's got a way with words…among other things. I'll leave you boys to it. It was nice meeting you, Bruce Lee." _

"_Isn't she great?" _Johnny said with a dumb smile on his mug.

From there, the grand tour commenced as Tommy was shown around the Row. Johnny gave him the cliff notes about what the 3rd Street Saints were all about, mostly stuff Dani already told him before she left. Around the year 1994, two best friends from opposite sides of California joined up to start their own crew. One was from Compton while the other was from Sunnyvale; Julius Little and Benjamin King. Around this time, though Julius would never have admitted it Johnny told him, was that Ben had the brains to start a gang while Julius had the spirit to keep a gang alive.

Both were regular street kids, nobodies before they started taking pot shots at the Carnales just to get a rise out of the Lopez brothers. Then their crew went from five men to ten after a month, four or so were still around while one of them was living in exile. But other than what Johnny was told he was having a bang up time cracking skulls when he was getting initiated, or "canonized" as it was called.

"_It looks like they laid into you hard." Tommy said._

"_Nah, this is nothing. You should've seen the pavement on the Church steps. That wasn't piss poor graffiti. I had to wash that shit off while the other guy was sent to the ER, pussy."_

"_At least they're treating you good. I know it hasn't been easy since Dani left for L.A. I've been going through some changes too_."

"_Hopefully they're not too big for you, bro. Hey listen, after the tour I really got to talk to you about something."_

"_Johnny, it's a church."_ Tommy said before the owner showed himself.

"_It's more than a church, son. In Saints Row, we strive for change."_ Julius said out of the blue.

"_Man of the fucking hour! We're going to run the Carnales, VKs, and those ghetto white boys in blue into the ground. Julius, this is my old friend Tommy." _

"_It's nice to meet you sir."_ Tommy said shaking his hand.

"_Any friend of Johnny's is a friend of the Row. I shouldn't be nervous right?"_

"_I'm just showing him around the place 'fore I take him to meet the crew."_ Johnny told Julius.

"_Well I better get back to it. It's good meeting you, Thomas." _He said before turning his attention to Johnny. _"Now man you know the rules. The Row has been quiet and we're keeping it that way. Last thing these people need is a grenade going off because you get off on blowing shit up."_

"_Sir, telling him to put down something dangerous is like snagging his curly fries when he isn't looking. Lucky for me, I got fast hands."_

When the pleasantries bored the living hell out of Johnny, he was anxious to take Tommy to the back of Church as they pit disposable souls against bad ass motherfuckers in purple. The canonization process was a simple, yet brutal test to see if a guy or girl had the will to earn the colors of a Saint. For someone like Lin, she just loved to exercise her right hook. She already earned her colors, but new members came pouring in after rumors about a fourth gang were buzzing about. Victim after victim, she calls them out to see if they were Saints or bruised meat sacks.

Tommy intended on seeing her later that day. The more he thought about the marines, the more tension it was building up in his chest in telling Johnny about it. He didn't know how to break it to him. That was when he made up an excuse for both of them to go to Freckle Bitches for some comfort food to break the tension. Even as young punks, Johnny would fall under the influence of chocolate shakes and curly fries. Those two were capable in breaking him out of what anger he was feeling or ruts. They sat outside and touched base with each other. Johnny became so excited yet kept his cool about the whole thing when he made a proposition for Tommy to join the Saints. Tommy was floored all of a sudden, but not in a good way.

"_Think about it. You do your fighting thing at No Holds Barred by also being a member of the Saints. I'm telling you, with your skills any motherfucker who tries to step we'll both be there to throw down, just like the old days. I already talked it over with Julius yesterday, and he has seen you fight at the arena. You're a shoo-in."_

"_Bro…it's not a good idea. No holds Barred has a zero tolerance policy against fighters with gang affiliations. My manager is a paranoid prick; he does a background check on me every month."_

"_Are you doing drugs or something?"_

"_I hang with you and Lin."_ He replied with a smirk. _"Gangs are not really liked in this town. The VKs get a pass from the people because their leader is rich."_

"_It's not a big deal. Julius understands discretion; your manager won't even suspect of you in a gang. Look, just hang with us at the Church; some of the guys and I are heading to Tee 'N' Ay tonight. You should roll along; it's not like you got a girl clamping at your arm at the moment."_

"_What about that girl you were talking to? I saw the way you were staring at her the whole time she was introducing herself. Who would've thought: Johnny Gat turned into a lovesick puppy."_

"_You're lucky we know each other. Aisha's cute; it's not going to turn into anything serious though."_

"_You never know."_ Tommy replied.

"_You seem like you're holding something back, man. Spit it out!"_

Tommy looked at him dead in the eye while pulling the brochure out of his pocket. Johnny assured him that if he was feeling indifferent about joining the gang, that Julius would use his connections to look past Tommy's record and focus on one of the most important things in his life: kicking ass, getting paid, and seeing exotic dancers get wet over a champion cage fighter. Okay he said; _three_ of the most important things in his life, but quite beneficial to the Saints. That was when he blurted out the four words and let them process the moment.

"_I'm joining the marines." _He said looking down. _"I ship off in a week."_

38


	7. Chapter 5: Stripper Street Fighting

Chapter 5

Stripper Street Fighting

An intense moment brewed between two old friends as one wanted to go a more legal route in kicking some ass and serving the country at the same time. It was one decision Tommy made for the best interests of himself and those around him. Ever since he could walk, all he was taught by his family was to learn how to fight. Although he learned and endured every minute of it, he wanted to try something new. His parents disagreed wholeheartedly about where his future was going to take him, but deep down it was what he wanted. Johnny was going in hard on his soda as he was trying to take in the fact his best friend didn't want to rule Stilwater with him. It was wishful thinking he thought but that wasn't really the point. However, he put his grievances aside and stared at the big picture…or a tall excuse of a punch line Johnny was trying to think up.

"You know what I think, man? The curly fries, one of the fry cooks smokes meth and tends to mix it with the batter. It makes you wish for shit you don't want."

"Really Johnny," Tommy asked in annoyance. "You're not going to support your best friend?"

"A _real_ best friend wouldn't fucking go anywhere unless I'm not with him, blowing things up for fun, or turning lesbians straight for Chinatown's finest."

"You always do this. The moment someone close to you wants to move on in life, you turn off and look away. Open your eyes, bro. Last I checked Stilwater isn't really stable right now with four gangs going up against each other. Dani left for L.A., I lost my brother, and the only person who hasn't given me shit over my decision is my grandfather. Johnny, I'll still be with you in spirit, you and Lin. You two got a lot to offer blowing shit up and street racing. The Saints is the perfect fit for you; you get to be a respectable bad ass. Come on man, I need your support on this." He said putting his hand on Johnny's shoulder. "I'll feel better knowing my best friend and grandfather are watching my back over there."

The intensity simmered when Johnny was thinking over his own options. Then all of a sudden, a single tear started to run down his face. Trying so hard to restrain the waterworks, he sniffed and turned around to embrace his bro like no tomorrow. Tommy walked up to him and returned the favor. It was rare for Johnny to get emotional over anything unless he was high and getting the best lap dance of his life at Tee 'N' Ay. Deep down in his heart, Tommy was about to do the real deal, which in some cases made him a better man than him. As they hugged, Johnny wanted to let him know two simple yet crucial conditions.

"You're a good man, Tom. If only I had half a conscience…"

"Then you wouldn't be who you are. Never fucking change on me you hear? I still expect you to be every bit as merciless when going up against those other gangs."

"You got it. Just promise me two things: kill _every_ motherfucker you see. Then when that war is won, get your sorry ass back to Stilwater."

"I _will_ come back." Tommy said as bystanders kept giving them awkward stares around Freckle Bitches.

"People are staring at us, aren't they?" Johnny asked.

"They never could appreciate bro-manship." He replied as they both sat back down. "If you could do one thing for me, I'd hang on to that girl you were talking to. Aisha."

"Doubt it's ever going to last. You know me and the ladies."

"I never say never, my friend." Tommy replied.

One week went a lot faster than either of the Asian bros could anticipate. Tommy said his goodbyes to his grandfather and took a cab to the airport where he was going to take his first step in unknown territory. Knowing his family background, he wasn't completely a stranger to the military due to his father being an Army Ranger. He left Stilwater in a state of unrest; Los Carnales, Vice Kings, Wetside Rollerz, and Gat's domain the 3rd Street Saints were going to enter a war of their own. Julius had plans that were going to put Saints Row on the map that was going to be a purple hailstorm on those who stepped up to them. However, they were not without gaining some allies along the way, some more resourceful than others.

For five years as Tommy was serving his country in the Marine Corp., the Saints followed a certain philosophy an old friend of Julius did when he was forming his own crew out of Sunnyvale. The keyword was "wait"; to know when it would be time to build, when it was time to watch, and when it was time to act. The Saints did just that, building their ranks from any desperate street corner looking to make a name for themselves. However, that wasn't enough. The other gangs, primarily the Carnales were decimating the competition year after year, and not just the Saints.

After all, it was the rep they had to maintain in being the first powerful gang in the city. Then one day, Julius had enough fighting on the sidelines and pray their numbers would stay whole; a solution came knocking during a gang shootout. It was a silent wolf that got lucky in said street corner and since Julius found him, the Row was getting stronger and capable. This wolf assisted in every area where Stilwater needed help the most, whether it was committing fraud while playing in traffic, picking up decent quality tail for hustling sugar daddies, or getting offended about which fall collection designer shoes were sold in. Dex didn't understand that neither, or his wise crack telling Johnny about getting Hepatitis when he was going to lay into a dirty whore of the Vice Kings.

Things were going the Row's way if not for a few losses; Lin dying with her passion underwater for one. Over a five year span, Stilwater went through gang wars, kidnappings, record labels exploding, and friendships going their separate ways. On the marine side of things, Tommy kept in touch with Johnny whenever he could by email, letting him know what was going on with the Saints and how he met a new friend named "Playa". Johnny told him it was like rolling with a silent version of himself, cleaning house with the Vice Kings the only way Julius would prefer to keep semi-clean. But knowing Johnny, he'd never follow anyone else's rules but his own, not dealing with them his own way anyway.

Apart from Johnny, the only other contact was his grandfather. Illegal business aside, he told Tommy how his new restaurant was making large sums of money in Chinatown. There was still no word from Bobby or his grandfather after a year into military training. His father kept in touch sometimes, asking how he was doing overseas. For the most part, he and Johnny were keeping it real on what's been going down in their lives.

They've sent emails to each other and that made their friendship wholesome, as if Tommy never left in the first place. Just like living the fast life of a well varied cage fighter, he took his both his skills and self-discipline to the rank of Master Sergeant. Apart from receiving a respecting title, he also earned a few medals for valor and perseverance on the battlefield. In the marines, Tommy went from fighting in the middle of the battlefield to being the tip of the spear to get shit done. His superiors couldn't believe a young man at 24 would achieve a vast amount of experience over the course of a five year span; getting a silver star wasn't too bad either he thought. Reading his last email from Johnny indicated a sense of desperation. At first he thought he got injured, or the Saints were planning on throwing him out, or that Aisha broke up with him. Thank god they were still together he thought.

"_Sup my brother? I got your last email, that's fucking awesome! I hope you're giving those privates something to give you shit later on. It's the only way they'll ever survive anywhere, being pissed off and taking control. Alright listen, how can I say this without sounding like a little bitch? Please come back, Tommy! Five fucking years; how long they going to keep you ordering people around and wearing stuffed shirts? In all seriousness though, Stilwater needs you back. The three other gangs are gone, and Saints Row is cleaning house. Hell, soon Eesh and I are going to celebrate our five year anniversary. I guess you were right the whole time, and yet I keep telling you that every goddamn year. If you do decide to come back, I hope you'd reconsider joining the Row. The 5-0 can't touch us now. Stay safe man. Hope to see you soon._

Spending half a decade in an environment only a family member has ever experienced can make someone weary and homesick. On a bright Tuesday morning, Tommy went and applied for an Honorable discharge from the U.S.M.C. With his status and battle scars it was a huge loss to the Corp., but family came first for Tommy and his superiors had no argument for such a selfless virtue. Before leaving for the marines, he was a muscular yet lean young man with battle scars fighting in the cage and a shaky family tree. He returned to Stilwater bulking up a bit with the Corp's symbol resting fine on the back of his left shoulder along with the words "Semper Fi", living by those words everyday on the back of his neck. On the plane ride back, Tommy was half expecting the city to be in a state of decay, knowing Johnny's way around an RPG.

Thankfully that wasn't the case. As a matter of fact, touching down on the airstrip, he caught a glimpse of a billboard that had the Ultor company symbol on it with an overused promise with ulterior motives: "Building a better future for your city." He exited the plane feeling like a brand new man in his alma mater while still sporting his marine dressings, and medals to match on the right side of his chest plate. As he left the terminal and headed outside, there was a Hummer with a purple body and silver rims waiting to take him back to his home. Johnny always did like to play it big. Tommy smiled when in the distance people were walking single file screaming for taxis. For a moment, he thought he saw Bobby's face in the sober, yet jetlagged crowd. Johnny got concerned.

"You okay, man?" He asked looking in the same direction Tommy was staring. "What the fuck are you looking at?"

"It's nothing, just tired as hell." Tommy replied getting in the car.

They moved away from the airport and took the highway back to city side, to the way things used to be. However, Johnny wasn't kidding about how much Stilwater had changed since Tommy left. Highways like the ones they were on used to have Rollerz cruising and ramming each other off the road. The only blue he saw during the ride was the sky.

"I'm glad you're back in one piece, bro. Shit just wasn't the same. I had good people watching my back but…there are some you just can't trust or cling onto forever, you know?"

"Kinda like fighting a war. I lost men over in Iraq, men with pregnant wives and big families praying for them. To be honest, we shouldn't be in a war in the first place."

"So did you do what I told you to do?" Johnny smirked, asking him.

"Fuck yeah Johnny!" He said high fiving him. "I killed _every_ motherfucker coming my way! My sorry ass is back right?"

"Did you reconsider my third request?"

"I'm pretty sure it's easier to get a job in the city now with the other gangs gone. Joining the USMC was something I wanted to do, to better myself. If the Row wants me, I'm in."

Tommy took some time in the marines to think about his future in Stilwater when he got back. It was solace back in the Middle East; he got a lot of down time to think. After all the times they emailed back and forth to each other, the Saints were more than just a typical street gang. They were helping people for the most part; things would have gone a lot smoother and faster if Julius was still in charge Johnny told him. After what happened to Playa, Julius disappeared, but Johnny himself knew Dex was hiding something from that night. It was a recurring gut feeling that just didn't go away. While they were driving, Johnny wasted no time telling him how someone gets initiated into the Row.

"It'll be a walk in the park for you. I got a few candidates who want in as well, but then again I'm not Julius. You want to wear purple, you got to be ready to throw down and take a few bullets every once in a while. Yeah my friend, for the time being _I'm_ running shit for the gang."

"How was Steelport? From what you told me, the entire city now belongs to the Saints." Tommy said.

"The Colombians are in our back pocket. Their liaison Manuel made a treaty or some shit with Julius and wanted to make sure our loyalty wasn't called into question. Stilwater's making a turn-around for both citizen and gang member alike."

They reached the city's main center where it felt more like a ghost town than a lively environment. The Saints had their work cut out for them while Tommy was gone. There was still a fire or two on some buildings that needed to be put out, and brick walls still leaving the paint of Westside Rollerz behind. Speaking of gut feelings, Tommy suddenly got one making its unnerving magic inside of him, and it wasn't military rations or lack of R&R over the years. Even though the city was being run by the Saints' terms, Johnny brought up another possible presence rumored to be a new gang. The only reason it wasn't brought up in the first place was because these people wearing green and black weren't causing any trouble, but the Loa dust Johnny continued, that was the ultimate prize. However, its supply was scarcely made around sharp alley corners not even tin foil hat wearing hobos were able to smell it.

Manuel was pressing the Saints for a sample of the stuff for weeks while Dex had been looking for the man behind the black and green gang. However, all he was able to find was a sophisticated limousine sporting the same colors with a tribal skull on it, riding around the desolate parts of the city and warehouse areas. For the time being, Troy was handling those areas he told Tommy. The gut feeling was growing stronger as he heard from the back of his head a revving engine that didn't belong to regular cars. Maybe it was paranoia he thought. Being in the Marines he learned to see with his ears as well as his eyes. That was when a red and yellow monster truck picked up the pace, and was closing in on Johnny's hummer.

"You got insurance for this car?" Tommy asked looking at the rearview mirror.

"Rim Jobs is our sponsor." Johnny said looking at his rearview as well. "Tom, there are two glocks in the glove compartment. Time to see what you learned pulling the trigger."

No warnings or alarms; one second they were driving cautiously, the next a red jeep crashed into the left side of the Hummer. They toppled over until both were upside down with guns at the ready. Three members wearing red and sporting punk rock piercings came out of the car and suddenly Johnny had a grenade slip out of his jacket pocket. He warned Tommy to be quiet while he was unconscious at the moment, but not a moment too soon when Johnny rolled the grenade right under of the member's feet. 3, 2, 1…all three lost a limb or two while rendered stuck in the confusion.

He immediately woke Tommy up, and both got their asses out of the Hummer as they walked into the middle of the street. Other cars were whizzing by them when another two red jeeps made their shooting debut a little sloppy by stopping behind them. With the Asian brothers reunited, they wasted no time making quick work against their uninvited guests. Without a moment too soon, four vehicles with a red coyote as their symbol came rolling in with big guns. Johnny got his hands on an AK while Tommy wanted to go for a more direct approach.

He was feeling too constricted in his marine uniform so he took off his jacket and stuffed the pant legs inside his boots. All this time, Tommy was still waiting for back up from Saints Row but knowing Johnny he wasn't ready to pussy out just yet. Eight punk rockers had their guns against two survivors. As they were laying into Johnny, he ran up to two of them and broke one neck while turning the other's skin tissue into bleeding Swiss cheese. Another shooter was sitting comfortably on the back of a jeep until Tommy took a martial arts approach by jumping on top of the jeep, and performed a drop kick for good measure.

He picked up a revolver and landed two straight shots on two other gang members. In the spur of the moment, Tommy back flipped and wanted to return the favor by knocking the other jeeps off the road. He opened the driver's side and nearly got knocked out when the door swiftly swung open. Close call or not, both he and Johnny had things under control; no more coyote trucks coming to spoil the welcome back party of a marine. Tommy almost got taken by surprise when he saw an ill-favored lady wrapped in a gray blanket.

"Johnny, get your ass over here! We got a hostage!" Tommy shouted to him before turning his attention to her. "You're going to be okay."

"Help…me…" The girl said as she latched onto Tommy's front.

"I'll get the boys over here. Christ, this is the second time they attacked us." Johnny said

For the first time from Tommy's perspective, Johnny was actually calling for help when it wasn't needed. He remembered the neighborhood they were in; the hospital was only four blocks away and Tommy had enough energy to carry her to the hospital himself. Out of nowhere, the girl reacted and put a rather thick blade to his throat. Johnny noticed this and aimed his rifle at her.

"Wait!" He told Johnny. "Miss, put the knife down. I'm not a gang member."

"So you just happened to ride with one and shot two of my boys in the process? Your chances ain't faring, sweetie."

"They shot us first. That's how it is out here. What's your name?"

"Name's "none of your damn business". Now tell your friend to lower his gun."

"He doesn't listen well." Tommy replied signaling Johnny with his eyes.

Johnny shot the knife out of the girl's hands and Tommy wasted no time elbowing her in the stomach to break free. Then out of nowhere, a speeding jeep came rushing towards them until an explosion knocked both of them back with the recently made trash heap flying above their heads. Tommy woke up and saw purple vehicles along with a dark purple Zomkah with tinted windows. Two familiar faces came into view: Dex and the one and only Aisha. As 3rd Street took precedence over the short lived shootout, Dex helped Tommy up and asked if he was doing okay. Tommy was much obliged while giving a glance at two predicted lovebirds who were acting like a married couple for the most part. He smirked at the very sight.

"Hey Eesh, what a..." Johnny said in a daze.

"What a pleasant fucking surprise eh Johnny?" She said pulling him off the ground. "You break anything?"

"Nah, I'm good." He kissed her. "Anybody see you?"

"Samson did a good one for my windows. Nobody saw me." Aisha told him.

"You just can't get enough huh Johnny? Turning jeeps into giant fire balls 'round this neighborhood isn't setting a good example.

"Eesh, why is there always this little bird screaming "I'm a pussy!" every time I have some fun? Fuck off, Dex." He replied as he took her to meet Tommy.

While the situation was settling down, a downed coyote member took a shot at Dex by stabbing him in the back of his leg. For a split second, the guy had his face exposed. Aisha took out her NR4 and had one bullet make a home inside his chrome dome.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love you?"

"Hmmph, you better." She said smirking at him.

"Hey cupid, come say hello." Johnny told Tommy.

All three reintroduced after five years. Back then, Tommy had gotten to know her before he shipped out. She was a struggling singer who knew all the right moves to put Johnny in a smitten state. Over time, she sold six platinum albums with "Bounce like my check" and "Don't F*ck me like I'm your wife" leading the record charts over the course of her career. It made its untimely end when her label, Kingdom Come Records blew up with a car bomb Playa set up.

It was a good thing she invested her royalties she said. Going from Saint, to Rap star, to a ghost, things haven't been that bad for her in Stilwater. She had her down time to work on some new joints without getting hounded by the media. Tommy wanted a ride into Chinatown, and it turned out Johnny's Hummer was shot up and laid on its back. Aisha was heading down there to try the new Chinese Restaurant and gave both of them a ride.

As for the mystery hostage Tommy found, she disappeared from the aftermath, blanket and all. Chinatown changed a bit since last time in Tommy's eyes. The streets were cleaner and back alley deals were running things smoothly under the guise of his grandfather. Johnny mentioned Mr. Wong becoming an ally with the Saints after they assisted him with a problem that was gnawing at his heels. The restaurant was doing quite well too, making a mint in Stilwater. When they reached Tommy's alma mater, he thanked Aisha for the ride and acknowledged it was good seeing her again after all this time.

"Hey man, sorry about back there. Those pricks with the nose rings should stick to playing shitty music rather than playing gang bangers." Johnny said.

"First Loa dust circles, now punk rockers. What's next; poser ninjas?" Aisha asked.

"Don't worry about it. I got to crash anyway. Thanks for the ride, Aisha." Tommy said walking away.

"You're going to be ready tonight right?" Johnny asked him giving him a wink.

"Wouldn't miss it, bro. I'll meet you there."

"Welcome back home, TK!" He said as they drove away.

"Home sweet home," Tommy said taking in the nostalgia.

The apartment was just as he remembered all too well. Nostalgia came in like a breath of fresh air and chamomile when his grandfather was sitting there waiting for him. His eyes lit up with pride as he said Tommy's name and both hugged each other. Everything was still the way they were: bed was made, clothes were washed and hung, overused gym equipment that helped better himself as a cage fighter. At the age of 25, he had grown to appreciate the things he had as opposed to the man he was five years before.

He was leading a fast life which led him in a great direction; until he settled in completely he was going to take things slow and easy. When Wong asked him about the dirt and a couple cuts on his face, he didn't lie. His scars transitioned from war to a simple street battle. After describing what they looked like for the most part, Wong only knew one name to correlate to the red colors and their coyote symbol; the Brotherhood.

"My sources tell me their leader, Maero came from a background of business negotiation and brute force. He was muscle for some chalkboard scratching band from Miami. One day he got injured at a gig and was forced to take a leave of absence, but in reality he got sick and tired living minimum wage swivel. He moved to Stilwater a year ago, and finished school. For a stone giant of a man, he is also good with numbers."

"Who's the other?"

"She's some high school truant who ran away from home. Parish something, but you needn't worry, Thomas. What was it like over there?" He asked pouring each other tea.

Tommy took a sip of tea while looking at his grandfather dead in the eye. As soon as he went in-depth of his experiences as a marine, he suddenly got a flash of a yellow, hazy field. He put his head down for a split second before going into the fact about how war is like any other war in history: bloody and unnecessary. Going from a Private to a Master Sergeant wasn't an easy task considering the body scars he had to endure to get to that point in a five year stretch. "War is no goddamn joke." He told him. The more he tried to scrounge up what details he was able to muster from months of training and doing recon in the dark, he kept getting quick flashes of that same field. But the sounds of gunshots were loud enough to break the sound barrier. Tommy looked away like he suddenly got a headache. Wong got up and went over to see if he was fine.

"If you don't wish to speak of it, I'll understand." Wong assured him.

"This war shouldn't have happened." He replied with a cold sweat running down his back. "How are my folks?"

"After you made your unanimous decision, a few months later they moved to D.C. They haven't contacted me since."

"Not so much on my end neither. Are there any news on Bobby?"

"Unfortunately no; your old girlfriend Eleanor Green came back to Stilwater though." Wong said looking at him sweating all over. "My word, you are burning up!"

"I just need…some…water."

Out of the blue, he felt his head and swore he was putting his hand on top of a stove. Coming back to his home to be in the middle of a gang war was not something he had in mind for a welcome back party. He even kicked himself for thinking that girl who put a knife to his neck looked very capable rather than just some kidnapped hostage. When Johnny was about to shoot her, if it was anybody else giving them shit he would've told him to pull the trigger; eye for an eye that sort of thing. Seeing the Ultor symbol at the airport sent his teeth on edge, if the jetlag didn't plague both his mind and stomach first.

When Wong gave him a glass of water, he gulped every drop like he was stranded on a desert rather than a battlefield. Water dripped from his chin and onto his shirt. Wong then received a call from his translator Fei about him coming back to the restaurant to break up a dispute. Tommy let him go after Wong explicitly told his "crippled" translator apparently to handle the dispute himself. At that point he needed two things: a shower and a nap.

An hour later in the afternoon, he got one dropping his temperature down a few notches and knocked out on his pull out bed soon after. His eyes shut, darkness from the familiarity of his eyelids ensued for another two and a half hours. The life of any human being in the service can have an everlasting effect on the psyche, whether it would be prideful or regret. His mistake on the bloody streets of Saint vs. Brotherhood reflected a time back to a mission he once did as a Lieutenant. He was ordered to cut off weapon shipments and set free hostages in Al Basrah.

He went in with a squad of six to neutralize targets and call in for evac support for any hostages they found. By the time he reached an open sweat shop which reeked of death and fear, he found around nine hostages bound in a closed circle. Tommy called his bomb specialist in his squad to diffuse C4 that was planted on each of their bodies. For the intense moment, it seemed like another textbook hostage rescue, but a rare event arose that was thought to be performed by the men running the area. He spoke in Iraqi to put them at ease; each one was beaten to death.

However, blood was dripping from their mouths the most. That was when a foul stench stole his attention. Two of his squad mates were ordered to stand guard while Tommy checked it out. A traumatic nightmare kicked in. Cannibalism was as high in the air as the stench, but long story short as soon as he turned around the bomb wearing souls ganged up and all wanted a piece of him. He was unable to fight back when his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Tommy woke up in a jump scare, nearly falling out of his bed. His house phone rang off the hook. He looked at the time; it was already 9:00 at night.

"Hello…?" Tommy said.

"_You awake up there? Sobriety's rubbing me off the wrong way." _Johnny replied feeling antsy.

"What are you…ah shit, give me a minute. I'll get dressed."

"_Don't take all fucking night. Oh hey, on our ride back to your place I noticed you were looking kind of pale. So I found the right medicine to clear that up."_

"You're a Saint." Tommy said sarcastically.

"_Should I send one of my boys to pick you up?"_

"What are you, my mother? Start getting drunk without me. I'll be there soon."

Dress to impress leaves a lasting impression for any crowd of eyes to feast upon. For Tommy, he didn't want to take any other chances getting ambushed by the Brotherhood so he went over to his small dresser and took out a modified Kobra Pistol which held four extra clips, and concealing his night stalker knife in his back holster. That knife saved him more ammo than he cared to admit; however over time he had learned pulling the trigger saved more lives as opposed to stabbing hostiles in the back. It was more time consuming. He left his apartment and made his way down to the garage to see an old beauty he won from a race with Lin a few years back.

Lifting a blue sheet, he was mesmerized by the blue Bootlegger in pristine condition. He jumped in, revved the engine and drove out into the serene night of tequila shots and G-string lovelies just craving to give a marine a lap dance. At least, that was the way Johnny promised when he got to Tee 'N' Ay. Rorsky's was getting bored listening to Tommy talk night and wanted him to mix it up a bit. The time couldn't be better; Lacey and Natasha were going to be the main characters in his narrative being back in Stilwater. As soon as he called Lacey up to the stage, many of the Saint convicts were howling and hooting for her top quality bush to give them a show they missed so much in the slammer. Tyreese stood up to try and keep the noise down until three drunken Saints got a little too desperate grabbing her by the shirt, and wanted to have their way with her. Johnny and Tommy didn't interfere; as for Lacey she was cool and collected about the ordeal. Her voice loosened their grips when she made them an offer.

"If you boys behave until TK finishes his tale, I'll offer the three of you a lap dance."

"Seriously, fuck yeah!" One Saint shouted as others around them cheered.

"Eh, eh, I got a question for you, honey buns. Are you any good? I've been in jail surrounded by 500lb guys for the last four years, and I got build up like a mofo."

"Scott, before we went inside you was a frequent horn dog at Tee 'N' Ay. Oblige him how I do things on the pole."

"Her and Selina man; they know how to make you feel like Hercules on cloud 9 while eating Freckle Bitches curly fries." Scott said before Tommy spoke.

_"I tip my hat off to you, Saint. We are curly fry lovers over here!"_ Tommy said.

"Trust me. There's a reason she was loved by everyone. It's almost like a wet dream even, but she lets you be in control and before you know it, you two are in sync on one of the couches. I've had a lap dance from her once and that was it."

Vincent, a Saint of Dominican descent, was not so easily impressed by Scott's brief characterization on an ex-stripper.

"So, you telling me she's horrible getting you off? But eh, you know what…" He said grabbing Lacey's arm before she grabbed his mid-way.

"I said _after_ TK's story is over."

"He's not a brother, cumquat. Vince doesn't wait for pussy."

Johnny got pissed all of a sudden, but Lacey reacted quickly by grabbing a Whiskey bottle Ty threw to her and bashed Vince's face in. The table got up as Johnny ordered Ty and Scott to get the drunken Saints out of his lounge. After a minute or two of intermission, Tommy called her to the stage again. This time she had the floor and pretty much everyone's attention when she decided to shake things up a bit when she got on the pole and was hanging upside down with mic in hand. Knowing Tee 'N' Ay was merely a pit stop for her, she still wanted to show off a few new tricks.

"Thanks Tommy. To clear the air, a couple hours ago I was let go from Tee 'N' Ay by the new owner, Darius. I guess stripper convicts don't qualify as "sexy" to him."

"When you and Natasha were in jail, there was a heated debate on a complete takeover between the two owners. That was three months ago." Johnny said.

"Nat and I were thrown at bottom of food chain because he felt we weren't giving the other ladies enough pole time. That's not true."

"We know that, Lace. The Row's trying to get Miguel's ass back where he belongs."

"Miguel was a sweetheart to all of us girls. He knew how to keep Tee 'N' Ay classy. But Darius, he was your typical profit muncher, among other things." She said rolling her eyes. "I'll never forget the night Tom came to the club."

_"I'll never forget how Johnny was this close to calling the paramedics 'cause I couldn't move for five straight minutes. Call me a sucker for love, but the Marines have taught me to look with my eyes. Then that feeling was put to the side when a…familiar face was working in the club too."_ Tommy replied telling the rest of his narrative.

Everybody needs an outlet to escape to. Stilwater had its share of ups and downs and a pile of dead gang members to add to the mix; Tee 'N' Ay was the only other outlet besides Freckle Bitches to feel safe and comfortable in. Built and owned by Miguel Juarez for over fourteen years, he turned the place from a low pay skin joint to one of the classiest businesses of the entire city. Anyone was invited, including gang members of different flags. For the sake of the enticing beauties walking on its stage and working the poles with delicious body glitter, gang members like the Rollerz and the Saints left their bloodshed outside and worked on relieving their pent up stress.

At the end of the night, everyone goes home happily drunk or has the ability to stand up straight and feeling like they can take on whatever the world throws at them. However, two heart stopping moments happened to Tommy while he and Johnny were toasting their beer mugs, watching the talent flourish and feeling back home. For a good duration of the night it felt like simple paradise to the hardships he faced in war, even helped Johnny ease his personal pain losing Playa. The past was brought up again when Johnny brought up about Lin's passing. Tommy wondered if Dani got the message yet when Johnny was blowing up her cell phone for the past month.

He didn't know L.A. was highly demanding for MMA fighters. Luckily for Tommy, touching down in the airport he texted Dani, letting her know he was not a bullet ridden corpse, in his humorous version of course. Another humorous moment lit up like a sleazy Christmas tree when Johnny pointed out one of the strippers.

"Hey T, you ain't gonna believe who works here."

"Who is it?" Tommy asked.

The sleazy delight was only partially shown behind the stage main curtains; a bit of a shy sort Tommy thought. Johnny didn't want to ruin the surprise and was saved by the club's DJ, making the introductions for the next girl to strut her stuff.

"_This is quite a full house we have here tonight at Tee 'N' Ay. Give a round of applause for Saints Row!" _He announced as the club roared with clapping and cheering. _"These sons of bitches threw down against some of the coldest motherfuckers I've ever seen. Alright, get ready to get your drink and hormones on 'cause we got some top quality girls for you tonight. First up, show your love for TINA!"_

The club's first fruit derived from the Garden of Eve's special place, stepped out front and center while seductive music filled the room and put everyone in the zone, some more than others. Tina worked her body the way a supermodel worked a runway, strutting her lean physique and blonde hair blissfully sparkles of mango body glitter out into the audience to taste from. When Tommy got a good look at her, his face went from intrigued to shell shocked in a matter of seconds. Tina was none other than his ex, Eleanor Green. At first he didn't know what to think; she had a bright future in the modeling industry despite her partying habits and sharing the love whenever she could.

"Man, this is some funny shit." He told Johnny when he was laughing his ass off. He had no remorse for the girl who broke his heart; she threw her legitimate career down the toilet the moment she stepped into Tee 'N' Ay. The only good thing to come out of her presence was that she didn't let herself go. Her hazel eyes, perky breasts, and pink lip gloss got the other Saints attention.

Tommy turned away and watched his best friend down tequila shot after shot. He tried getting him to take it easy on the spicy alcohol, but Johnny wasn't drinking his sorrows, or the fact he was still healing from his leg getting shot by a shotgun. He was a happy motherfucker he told him. Stilwater belonged to the Saints, Manuel and the Colombians were their sword and shield against any opposing gang trying to step up to them, street kids and lay off employees were lining up outside the church just waiting to get canonized and start wearing purple. Tommy was just laughing along with him drinking one shot after another, seeing his ex-girlfriend making a fool of herself for neck bearded strangers. After the eight shot streaming down Johnny's gob, he turned to Tommy with gratitude.

"You should be a fucking fortune teller. I told you Aisha and I would never be an item and what do you know?! She and I are going on five years."

"I'm happy for you, bro. You should listen to me more often." Tommy said patting him on the back.

"Yeah, not only can she sing like an angel, she's just as crazy as me. We had a run-in with some assholes wearing black and green shirts wielding fucking…machetes or whateva. We nearly ran them out of the neighborhood. Hell, we woulda lost if Eesh didn't go ape shit Samurai on their asses. Blood was _everywhere_; whoever's been fucking with us got the message the Row goes hard no matter what."

"Bloody oath on that." Tommy replied.

As far as teasing went, Tina had no rhythm. What she worked with was enough to get the truckers aroused and tossing crumpled dollars on stage, but it wasn't classic Tee 'N' Ay. Looking over to see how further she could in making an ass out of herself, Tommy didn't know whether to keep laughing or start to feel sorry for her. Thinking about it, he still didn't pity her. She was still beautiful, and still had her lean body for easy men to gush on; the impression left on in her performance was that she was waiting for something, or someone as the thought of Bobby entered his mind.

Last time Tommy left, they were teenagers. To this day, it was still a mystery whether he was alive or dead. Suddenly, Tina made a swinging move too early getting to the pole and slipped offstage. The DJ didn't even try to help her. Six men who looked like eligible bachelor has-beens lifted her off the ground like she was some rock star who made a dramatic finish before jumping onto the crowd. He got Johnny's attention, but he was too shit faced to say anything about it. They carried Tina into one of the private rooms. The DJ gave out a nervous chuckle before introducing the next couple of dancers. They were in for one hell of a treat he said.

"_Well that concludes the arousing warm-up. How about we take this night up to the next level huh?"_ The DJ asked as the crowd cheered. _"Behind this stage are two rare beauties that have sold out every strip club on the east coast. Gentlemen, give it up for Selina and Olga!"_

Tommy sat back in his seat in the hopes he will get some pent up stress released, and can walk like a confident young man again. He wasn't kidding Tommy said; when Seline and Olga entered the stage with lights dimmed and purple light shining with a techno vibe, he knew he was in for a show. He had only heard of these girls by reputation; they were the dynamic duo of the stripper circuit. Strip joints and gentlemen's clubs around the U.S. of A were either sold out or had limited seating due to their high demand seeing them dance. What was even better was that they weren't associated in any part of the porn industry.

Many offers were given, mostly to Selina about her world would be rocked by millionaires and rock stars. Neither had any intention making people pay to see the stuff on DVD when seeing the real thing in person was all the sweeter. The track that set the tone was actually fitting to remedy the poor performance Tina gave, "Sexy back" by Justin Timberlake to exact, and that's what they did once their performance lured everyone's attention to the things they were doing on the pole. Tommy was getting intrigued; Johnny took him up closer, feeling his surprise was starting to bear fruit. Tommy was staring at the Russian goddess, Olga the whole time.

He became speechless at what she was able to do, then the environment around him was drowned out of all sound. Every music beat, every douchebag demanding breast feeding time from the delights of Selina's chest, all of it was non-existent for him. It was just him and Olga in his eyes. A stare from her sky blue eyes and the way the spotlight glistening her stare just made the experience even better. Back on Earth, Johnny snapped himself out of his drunken escapade and saw Tommy entranced by the performance, more so than any other strip party he had taken him to when they were teenagers.

He stood in front of him and directed his eyes at Olga; a fine choice he thought. Johnny figured it was time for him to step away from superficial, partying sluts to venturing into a place where few men have had the privilege to indulge. Tommy was then pulled back into reality when the DJ praised them for a performance that got all of Tee 'N' Ay raising the roof. Olga gave him a wink, and with the look of being shot by cupid Johnny made a suggestion.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone keeping a straight face for an hour and a half. Earth to TK!" Johnny shouted to him. "You got drool coming out of your mouth."

"Shit." Tommy replied wiping off his chin. "That was something. What is Olga's real name?"

"That Russian beauty is Lacey Tabakov. Her partner's Natasha. I'm telling you man, quality tail with hidden gifts is something you want in your life."

"What hidden gifts?" Tommy asked

"Rumors, but that doesn't matter now. You want to meet Lace?"

"Fuck. Yes…"

Feeling alert as ever, they both went backstage where Johnny's main man and bouncer, Harold let them in as a couple of drunks thought it'd be wise to follow. Ah the dressing room; despite of the change in management Lacey and Natasha's dressing room didn't smell like cum or potent body glitter pulled from the vagina. Walking in were the smells of the ocean and a rack of ribs sitting in Styrofoam takeout boxes. Tommy didn't know if he was in heaven or dreaming back in his apartment. Johnny called out their names and getting struck by the lightning bolt of love, Lacey walked out updating her barely there makeup. He still couldn't breathe or move, feeling entranced by the warmth of her eyes and embracing Johnny as if they were old acquaintances. Natasha walked out as well, growing concern for Tommy's sudden trance of her partner of the pole.

"Is your friend going to be ok, Johnny?" She asked.

"Tommy? Don't worry about him, babe. He hasn't been to this place in years."

"You don't remember? He is the war hero we've heard so much about." Lacey told her.

"Really, for a marine he cleaned himself up well." Nat replied observing him from many angles. "

"That was an amazing show you two put on for us. What was Tina's deal anyway?" Johnny asked.

"She's only been working here for a few months. Ever since Miguel left, Darius has been stalking girls who can wing a smile without any experience on the pole." Lacey explained.

"Just last week, Darius had to let go four girls because they weren't making enough tips. Johnny, Geronimo was let go too." Nat said breaking the news.

"Oh fuck no! Not the Irish milf with the big tits."

As Johnny kept making attempts breaking the ice for Tommy, Tommy couldn't help but remain entranced by Lacey. She gave him a wandering smile and an expression in the hopes he will finally wake up from la-la land. Two minutes later, Lacey thought to hell with it, and broke the ice by breaking his staring cycle. At first, she went over to her makeup table and offered him some ribs. Thankfully, the smoking saucy aroma broke his longing gaze and actually stepped right in for conversation.

"Five years sounds like a lifetime for marines. How was it over there?"

"It did feel like a lifetime. When you're stepping in the heart of gunfire and the unknown, there's no telling whether you'll still have both legs attached by the end of a mission." He said biting in his ribs. "War's not a game, but apparently that doesn't mean shit in Washington."

"I had to fight my way to get where I am today. Being a boxer and a ballerina are good gifts for me. Johnny told me you were a champion cage fighter at No Holds Barred, yes? Nat and I went to see a couple of matches. I almost didn't recognize you without your hair."

"You saw me? It was a good run for me. But I wanted something different in my life, and serving my country seemed like the best possible route at the time."

"You ever regret it? Just curious."

Harold took a step back and went inside the dressing room to remind Lacey of a certain guy friend who was looking for her. His start to a meaningful conversation with a beautiful lady was cut short by the sting of his sex raring to steal her away from his sight. It didn't feel much better when she told him Doug was his boyfriend. Before she left, she welcomed him back home where he belonged. A little heartbroken and woozy from the tequila shots, Johnny sat next to him and assured him it was not the end of the world. It was very rare he said, getting a private audience with one of the top strippers of Stilwater. Johnny only got in because he knew how to tip well and "taking out the trash" with his 12 gauge if need be. The other girls were gathering in the dressing room getting ready to go out on stage.

"Fuck it, I wouldn't worry about it. Maybe you can rekindle with Tina." Johnny said as Tommy looked at him.

With Johnny killing the moment, Tommy looked at him like he was ready to tear his head off, but it was one random joke both couldn't keep from laughing too long. They both laughed it off while Johnny introduced him to the other girls who were already eyeing for some Semper Fi action. Eleanor was nowhere to be found amongst the group since the six guys took her to a private room at the back of the club. Tommy was getting kisses and suggestive foreplay from the other ladies. Suddenly, Natasha got both of their attention and was curious with Tommy's history with Tina.

"It's complicated. We dated for a while back when she was working to be a model. It didn't end well."

"Well I'm sorry to hear that." Natasha told him. "Look, don't take it personal. Between you and me, Lace's boyfriend isn't the romantic type. She's not afraid to express herself out there, but when it comes to commitment…"

"It's cool, really. You have a good night."

Lacey blended into the club's surroundings. She had gotten a text from Doug saying he wanted to discuss the future of their relationship. It was a slowly sinking ship since she took up a side job at Tee 'N' Ay to earn some extra cash. She herself didn't know she was going to be a big hit. Searching around drinking tables while girls were entertaining the customers, he wasn't even smoking outside.

Doug was more of a back alley smoker so as she made her way to the back exit door she came across some familiar sounds coming from one of the private room curtains. One was climaxing while the other kept begging for more. Lacey found herself looking at Tina riding none other Doug harder than a mechanical bull rider. For about ten straight seconds she couldn't fathom the scenario she brought herself to finding out. Tina wasn't giving a single damn in the world.

Still riding a recently made cheater, Tina offered her a chance for a three-way at her house after work. After those ten seconds of shock were up, Lacey blacked out. Two minutes later, she found herself attempting to break Tina's neck while everyone surrounded the girl fight. She could barely hear her own screams beating her down on the slippery, shiny black floors; just the blood boiling at the fact her boyfriend cheated on her with no sense of shock or remorse in his expression. On the sidelines, Natasha, Tommy, Johnny, and Harold ran out to see what the hell was going on. Nat got a good look and it was Lacey having one of her inner rage fits on Tina.

Doug came out feeling calm and relaxed pulling up his zipper with an uncanny determination to find out Lacey's deal with Tina. Nat on the other hand couldn't believe her suspicions about him were right all along.

"You got quite a pair on you." Natasha said angrily.

"Jesus fuck, do you ever mind your own fucking business?"

"_Not_ when one of my girls is hurting because of you!"

"It was going to be a one-time thing. The threesome was her idea." Doug replied before glass shattered.

A stripper street fight was definitely on when Lacey thought it was best to throw Tina against a glass wall and out onto the street. The owner, Darius was too pissed off to break up the fight himself, or from Johnny's perspective, too much of a pussy to handle his business. Tequila shots, entranced by beauty followed by someone getting the shit beat out of; it felt just like Tommy never left. Tee 'N' Ay inhabitants gathered outside with hotheads screaming and alcohol cheering the two strippers on for bras to go flying. Tommy and Johnny pushed through the crowd to give Lacey a hand, but Doug somehow moved past them undetected to make sure his so-called girlfriend didn't embarrass him any further. Jumping into the bloody fray, he grabbed Lacey's arm and demanded for them to leave before the cops showed up.

"I'm taking your ass home. Come on!" Doug shouted into her ear as he was trying to pull her away.

"На прошлой, limp Дик!" She said elbowing Doug in the left eye.

(Fuck off, limp dick!)

Doug fell on the ground without any way to prevent himself from looking like an ass hole. Throughout the duration of the fight, Lacey had done nothing but gained the upper hand on Eleanor. With heat still brewing in her breast, she performed a devastating kick against her stomach and ripping off Eleanor's bra for good measure. Doug got up and whispered "You bitch…" before he was really going to give her a piece of his mind. Tommy made it to the front of the crowd and stepped in to stop Doug.

Suddenly, Natasha somersaulted over him and grabbed his raised hand before kicking him in the groin and landing a left hook soon after. Next thing Tommy knew, he was slowly taking a step back with Johnny in front of the crowd as well, whistling at the girls to kick some ass. To him, it was quality entertainment, but for Tommy it felt like cloud 9 was an understatement. Seeing beauty and the will to handle oneself made him fall in love with Lacey even more. Now that Doug was out of the picture, he figured he would wait before making his move.

Stilwater was raising headlines and police sirens as Channel 6 and the Stillwater P.D. came rushing in to liberate the raunchy debacle. If there was one thing to know about News Anchor, Jane Valderamma is that she never misses a story, especially with the literal headline, "Stripper Street fighting".

"_We are outside of Tee 'N' Ay about to witness a heated dispute between two prominent dancers. To the back of me you will see...scratch that number. Three exotic dancers losing blood and any chance of getting laid tonight. Just look at the brute force in the fray, especially that young blonde_ woman." She said as her cameraman got a better angle of the fight._ "If I'm not mistaken, that's Lacey Tabakov: former boxer and ballerina from Los Angeles."_

Brutality amongst the three strippers ensued regardless of whatever outcome came their way. Jane was more impressed than shocked.

"_My word, if No Holds Barred can see them now. If they had half a brain these girls would be shoo-ins."_ She continued as the cops broke up the crowd. _"It seems like the Stilwater P.D. is handling things as we speak. I'm sure the question on everyone's minds is what caused this conflict in the first place? Or if men of this town would have to stay home and call Shaundi for a good time?" Let's have a word with that unscathed witness making a run for it."_

Doug made his way out of the disturbing crowd and made a quick getaway before the cops caught up to him. Jane saw him and reacted quickly by telling two of her news trucks to cut off his escape route. Cameramen and Jane herself surrounded and overwhelmed him with questions about his involvement. Back in the jaded fray, the cops made three arrests on Lacey, Eleanor, and Natasha. Tommy and Johnny slipped away into the dark alleys behind Tee 'N' Ay and took the long way back to Tommy's Bootlegger. They took off before the 5-0 decided to meet their gang catching quota of the week.

"Woo-hoo hoo; now that's what I call a fucking party!" Johnny told Tommy.

"Holy shit, you saw the way Lace was going at it like a wild animal, knocking "Tina's" sorry ass into the next year? I'm in love man. My eyes have been fucking opened."

"I know right?! It can't be said enough, TK. I'm glad your ass is back in Stilwater. The Row's kind of thinned out at the moment. It doesn't hurt to have a second bad ass in the crew besides me." Johnny replied.

"Didn't you get your leg hit by a shot gun? What the fuck were you thinking man?" Tommy chuckled as he drove.

"I tested my leg after it recovered finally. As long as my foot goes up people's asses, I'm good."

"It's too bad the cops got Lacey and Nat though. From what I saw, that Doug guy and Eleanor belong behind bars. Wait Johnny, you said the Saints are working with the Colombians to keep their backing for Stilwater right? Is there some way they can waiver their jail time so they don't have to serve at all?"

"Manuel's not too keen on petty crimes. I think jail time on the island outside the city would toughen them up a bit more. It's heartbreaking when you think about it. She had quite the life when she was living in L.A. But hey, shit happens for a reason."

"What're you saying, man?" Tommy asked.

"Lace is a wild animal when a fight brews. She and Nat aren't fucking flower children growing up in Sunnyvale. What I'm saying is Tommy…she's Saints material. When you two get back into the swing of things which will be _very _soon, we'll talk canonizing. The test is on."

20


	8. Chapter 6: Spring Break aftermath

Chapter 6

Spring Break aftermath

It became no secret Lacey can handle herself in a fight. Along with her attraction to Tommy, it was enough in Johnny's eyes. Every Saint inside the Lounge applauded loudly for her in depth view on what happened at Tee 'N' Ay, and that she was willing to break a few jaws to make her pussy of an ex-boyfriend run away from jail time. When she heard Channel 6 cut off his escape, she felt justice was served on her behalf. For the next four months, Lacey's justice as well as her rights was taken away when she and Natasha were taken to an island prison where convicts get shot if the guards seem them fist bumping the sharks. "What was it like on the inside?" one of the Saints asked as she was concluding her side of the story. She compared her first night in jail as a hangover sent by Mother Russia herself.

"_I don't remember all the details. First night I was out of it, there was nothing but the sound of ocean and perverted speech of the officers who were transporting us. I woke up next to my cell mate who was claustrophobic. But the look in her eyes; the fear of tight spaces were long gone. What was it like? I felt violated beyond understanding. I uh…never have been in jail before." _She said looking down.

"We can relate." Scott said in the audience. "Ty and I went inside cause of a mishap with the Rollerz. After what happened to Lin…"

"Letting out your frustrations is what makes you human, makes you real. The way the Rollerz were talking about her just did us in. A fight broke out, and apparently the Warden over there used to be a neighbor of my folks when I was a kid." Ty said looking at Scott. "He never did like us very much."

"_Like war, jail is no goddamn joke."_ Lacey said looking at Tommy.

"_That's another privilege Dex and I have in charge."_ Johnny chimed in._ "Every Saint in this place along with the ones who are six feet under served time for the Row. Like I said before, Stilwater is ours now. If the 5-0 gives you any shit, you give me a call. I'll bail you out."_

"_How'd you cope being on the inside?" _Tommy asked.

"_I shaped up."_

Lacey didn't go in depth on what happened at the prison. It was city-wide knowledge about the breakout, and for some odd reason the cops weren't out in force trying re-apprehend the fleeing angels. She talked about shaping up as in lifting weights at the jail's main courtyard overlooking the ocean. Many convicts get sent out there, feeling the water is their salvation off the island. However, that wasn't always true.

She did a lot of thinking out there in the yard, lifting and running through the physical pain she endured at Tee 'N' Ay. To this day, she still couldn't believe her ex-boyfriend did her the way he did with Tommy's ex-girlfriend. The more they looked at each other there was a spark of hope for a new relationship down the line. After stories were exchanged at Rorsky's, it was time to put down the booze and join Johnny down a more recent trip on memory lane. Most of his teenage years consisted of blowing shit up and not much else. Everybody took a walk down to the main junkyard down by the warehouse district. Tommy and Lace walked next to each other a little slower than the Saints for a big surprise Johnny had in store for them.

"We lead crazy lives don't we?" Lace asked.

"We sure do. Going back in time made me regret a few things though." Tommy replied.

"Your brother, where do you think he is?"

"He's out there somewhere. I didn't get a chance to ask Eleanor about him. Did you happen to see her when you were in jail?"

"Only once or twice; Vulenti made sure neither of us crossed paths. What she did…whatever. Doug was an asshole before my stripper days, he wasn't much different since."

"I'm glad I ran into you when I did. One thing's for sure, he said feeling one of her arms, you know how to stay at peak condition."

"Maybe you can teach me a few moves you learned from No Holds Barred; begging for job hasn't been easy. Freckle Bitches was already a bust."

"Maybe we can go over some stuff at my place." Tommy suggested.

"Sounds like a plan." She smiled.

Arriving at the junkyard's humid, smelly center was a bootleg recreation of a big city made of old neon lights and old car parts for buildings. Natasha and some guy with a beanie and dreadlocks were putting the final touches on it. Shaundi on the other hand was sitting on the sidelines smoking something fierce from a broken light bulb. Johnny told everyone to open their eyes to his replicated city of Steelport; if only he had told Tommy and Lacey earlier. It was still impressive in their eyes.

Lace called out to Nat as she waved back while hanging off a semi-stable skyscraper made from an air wing with red neon lights that were activated to complete the project. While Tommy was planning on coming home from Iraq, Johnny was feeling a bit creative. In fact, Johnny was feeling like that ever since Playa died. The explosion from a politician's boat can supposedly alter one's perspective. At first, he hired Shaundi and her cell pal Natasha to build the replicated city. It turned out she had a few aces up her sleeve besides smoking weed and having promiscuous sex with strangers. When it came to consistent work effort however, she wasn't always part of the equation. An awkward tension arose when a third helper came into the picture. Johnny didn't recognize him.

"What the fuck are you sitting around for?" Johnny asked her.

"On my lunch break, boss." Shaundi replied smoking while Johnny gave her a look. "I bought donuts."

"Lemme guess, Reggie from L.A. sent them over?" He asked taking the half empty box.

"The bakery in this city was shut down by Chief Winslow."

"Didn't his ass get burnt on city bus or some shit?" Scott asked.

"It's true, man." The DJ chimed in sliding down the messy skyscraper. "Shaun was a big help getting us started."

"Why's this guy talking to me?" Johnny asked.

"Oh I heard a lot about your reputation. I respect motherfuckers like you. Veteran Child's the name." He said extending his hand.

Johnny and the others walked past him. They left him hanging with Shaundi getting up and walking by his side. She assured him Johnny would warm up to him eventually. "Take five" he told Natasha as she jumped down and fist bumped Shaundi for another enticing tale of the Gat-ageddon, namely his trip to Steelport and thus his actions there earning control of Stilwater. Johnny called over the dreadlock DJ along with the free spirited hippie to role play bodies flying and cars exploding everywhere.

When Lacey was looking at the structure, something familiar caught her eye. Tommy noticed the same thing as well, but before he was able to ask how did Johnny come by it he was ready to tell his story right then without any interruption. The mission dated four months prior to the prison breakout. Johnny got the small details out of the way by his ringtone while he was making love to Aisha. The call came from Manuel Orejuelas, the man who proposed the inception of the job to him while they were in the shot up Lopez mansion. The ringtone was a text: "Mr. Gat, it's time. Meet me outside."

Johnny wasn't looking for any limo service or a few flunkies giving him the parameters of the job he already knew. It was around eleven at night when he kissed Aisha, got dressed in his kick ass action star vest and walked outside with an AK-47 and an RPG for good measure. Standing in front of a custom made Hummer with the Saints logo and fully equipped in every sense of the word, was Manuel.

"You're looking well rested." Manuel spoke sarcastically.

"Another three minutes and I woulda been happy to see you. Am I good to go?"

"I have taken the liberty to have Rim Jobs customize your vehicle." He replied opening the left passenger door. "Inside the trunk you will find an arsenal that would make Rambo piss himself. Consider it a "Friendly Fire" for your car."

"Fuuuck me." He replied marveling at the weapons. "With this much hardware I'll be bringing a shit storm to anyone who fucking crosses me."

"It's courtesy of the Colombians' deep pockets. They got a lot riding on you, Mr. Gat." Manuel said walking to his car. "Contact me once you're in the city limits."

"Will do..." Johnny said walking to the driver's side.

"Oh and…try your best not to _completely _decimate the entire city? I know how you are with explosives."

He wasn't kidding around about the arsenal Johnny was sporting in the back of the hummer. Assault rifles, semi-automatics, RPG caches, grenades and pipe bombs. It was his wet dream to cause an apocalypse with state-of-the-art weaponry. Driving out on the highway he was ready for some carnage in Steelport. He had only heard of the city by reputation; "Bangkok's abusive father", pink felines in lab coats making murder fun in every conceivable way. Apart from the Spring Break fiasco that happened the weekend before the job was set in motion, he never had incentive to visit.

Two hours into the drive, he had a lot of time to think along with a double chocolate milkshake and a couple cheeseburgers he had gotten on his way out of Stilwater. Looking at his passenger side, he kept imagining Playa holding a big gun next to him about to cause some mayhem. It would've been historic he thought, but he wasn't capable in bringing people back from the dead. For the duration of the ride, he cranked up some hardcore metal music and getting into the rhythm of it. Another hour and a half of occupying roads and outrunning a small army of Police cars for shits and giggles, he passed by a sign that said "You are now entering Steelport".

Suddenly, his phone popped up another text from Manuel. It was a list of notorious drug dealers not making ends meet with certain members of the Colombians. Normally, they would send an off-grid hit man to send them packing for the pearly gates but keeping his end of the deal with Julius, he wanted to honor it after what they did in finishing off the Carnales for good. Ten dealers, all who were making some street moo-lah on the side during spring break. To think, Steelport being a party city with college kids draining their parents' life savings for some blow, booze and pussy, the dealers would think about tossing some profit Manuel's way.

Something rotten was in the air quite literally; he rolled up the windows to take a look at his hit list. The names were as followed: Scotland Layton, Jeffrey Bellowaski, Mickey Schmidt, Doug Vorty, Drew Freemont, Dennis Vivaldi, Carson Lovecraft, the DeNardo twins, and one name he couldn't quite put his finger on. Stevie Pyros was the last name, and for some reason he recognized the name from somewhere; in another life most likely he thought. He gave Manuel a ring.

"I just received your shit list. You want a carved message out of each body or turn 'em into ash?"

"_I highly suggest not to bum rush all of them with guns blazing. A third of those fine gentlemen has information that could affect the future of Stilwater, namely Carson Lovecraft, Scotland Layton, and Stevie Pyros."_

"What can you tell me about Pyros? Name feels too familiar to me."

"_His general profession is making bombs. He made a name for himself when he moved out of the Bronx in New York. When the NYPD, LAPD and Stilwater Police caught wind of what he was doing, he took refuge out of the country for six years. I will never understand why he moved to Steelport; their jurisdiction is not tightly wounded. On the drug front, he reached out to somebody called the General and for the last three months he was selling low grade Loa dust around Brickston. Maybe when you see him, it will jog your memory."_

"Yeah, okay so give me the layout of the assignment. I'll play by your rules this one time."

"_Play by my rules eh? Maybe Dex is starting to have poor judgment of character."_

In spite of not having enough lively venues in Steelport, there was a darkness lurking in the bowels of the city, also civilians who had an affinity for mascots. The job for Johnny was to track down each dealer, beat the living shit out of their muscle, and torch their area of business, mostly chop shops and such. It sounded simple for a Saint like Gat, but for the Colombians things weren't going to be so simple. Manuel spoke briefly about Scotland Layton and the DeNardo twins. Scotland was a High School star quarterback turned ex-marine who received a dishonorable discharge for provoking the opposing side based on death threats. He sent an unwarranted drone strike on 4,000 innocents. He thought it would turn the tide of a civil war going on in Baghdad.

Originally, he was to be executed on Middle Eastern soil when he escaped from the firing squad and on a heliport back to the states. The DeNardo twins used to be damaged goods from a gentlemen's club called Safeword. Manuel didn't go into detail on what their acting names were. They owed $28,000 to the Colombians for selling their uncut cocaine around the perverted corners of the club. Carson Lovecraft was an ex-associate of the General who used to sell LSD and koma to middle school eighth graders. Long story short, the General's right hand with an alias "Mr. Sunshine" didn't take kindly for adolescence to savor the illegal fruits of adult labor.

Instead of cutting off his manhood which supposedly was one of the prices for punishment for this third party, he gave him a fate worse than death. Eddie Vorty was going to be Johnny's first target he told him. His last known location was around a chop shop area a few blocks from the park in the center of the city. The city never really took pride in adding variety to business titles. Since entering the city limits, Johnny drove past five chop shops all under the name of Rim Jobs. Vorty was small potatoes that were going to be compensated with a kick in the ass to get things going. Speaking of which, Manuel wanted to know how Johnny's leg was healing.

"I wish this brace wasn't so itchy. Why you ask?"

"_I have another present for you at Image as Designed."_ Manuel replied.

"My girl is already satisfied with what I got amigo."

"_My senorita is pretty content with mine as well. But seriously, Dex told me about how your leg almost got blown off by Benjamin King's enforcer, Tony Green. With my guy's help, you will be kicking some ass figuratively in no time. Ask for Doctor Eurina Benedict; tell her I sent you. I'll send the directions to your phone."_

"Is she cute?"

"_Getting a prostate exam from her is like getting a happy ending at a massage parlor. Too bad there was no Forgive and Forget back then."_

That was another downside compared to Stilwater: no Forgive and Forget drive-thru places from what he had seen so far. It was a handy shortcut to run to whenever he had daily sins from his itchy trigger finger. He could just cruise there, get straight with the Lord, go out and do it all over again. He checked his GPS and found Image as Designed; it was weird. After Manuel brought up Johnny's encounter with Big Tony his leg was starting to throb. It was a price he paid for trying to patch him-self up and Aisha changing his bandages.

He pulled up to face lift central and walked inside. The place was packed, filled with hung over college kids and Mardi Gras has-beens looking to get some work done. He walked over to the receptionist to confirm an appointment he had about his leg and that Manuel sent him special. Afterwards, he was told secretly he was going to be moved to the front of the list; a relief he thought. He found an open seat next to some hobo looking dude wearing a violet tuxedo.

"Mind if I share the wealth with ya?" He asked Johnny.

No matter what city or battlefield he was dominating as a Saint, he would never turn down a stiff drink. He took a half drunken bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey and chugged it without a care in the world. With the last drop inside the throat of a dangerous man, he was going to toss the bottle until one of the patients starting bitching about sitting in the same chair for six and a half hours. At first Johnny thought his groveling was going to remain one note; turned out that wasn't the case. He took the bottle and landed a bloodied face with a shard of glass stuck in the guy's right eye. He screamed profane words as he cried out of the office.

"I tell you, this city tries far too hard to be the next Stilwater." He said when a nurse came out and called out Johnny's name.

The waiting room was gradually making uproars about a walk-in being a first priority amongst the drunks and the party animal obese. Johnny wearing his Saint colors proudly, he was wearing a purple vest while sporting a black wife beater underneath. Then suddenly one of the patients noticed the symbol and told everyone to shut up. With one door closing off and the patient room opening, Johnny was welcomed to an enticing sight, more of an old flame when he was a teenager.

"Lorena…?" He asked in surprise.

"Hello Johnny." She smiled and both hugged each other. "Yes, they are still natural."

"Damn, it feels like just yesterday you and I were making my senior prom one for the history books. How the hell are you?"

"Happily divorced, but I'm not complaining. I'm still living in Stilwater though. I only took this job to help my roommate out at her apartment."

"You're living with a roommate?" He asked.

"It was either that or the car wash. The boss there makes _muy caliente_ barbecue ribs on Fridays. Have a seat."

"Remember those guys I told you I met back when I was a teen? They were a rising street gang known as the 3rd Street Saints."

"Your reputation made you loose cannon. Listen um…I heard about the explosion a few months back. Channel 6 said he was a Saint. I'm sorry."

"To this day, I still don't know the fucking cause behind that. Our leader Julius is behind bars somewhere and one of our lieutenants is keeping something from the gang. I can feel it. But I won't go further into gang business."

"It's all good." She replied looking at some documents. "Mr. Orejuela gave me the cliff notes pertaining to your leg. I don't think I need to remind you the operation is going to be life threateningly painful."

"If it gets me walking straight again, I'll do it. Alright, let's do this."

For a normal hospital, it would've taken eight to ten hours for a surgery to be done on a human limb. At Image as Designed, things weren't so prolonging. Since Steelport was a coming of age type of city, most of its technology is give or take a few years advanced from the rest of the world. As clichéd as it sounded to Lorena when she first got the job as a surgeon, not even the Government was able to keep up with the forward times. Laser surgery was entering a golden age of accelerated repair of the human body.

When Johnny was put under, she removed the brace he already had on and installed leech sized laser capsules to capture the damaged blood cells in his leg and rejuvenate their uses. What was even more fortunate was that skin tissue moved like intertwined thread, bringing any dead or loss of skin back to form. Eight to ten hours on an expensive procedure went to almost four hours of painful straining and Johnny's need to strangle someone. When the procedure was over, the exotic Peruvian sound of Lorena's voice kept his mind in check. What a fucking world of difference he said feeling his leg.

"I guess "magic touch" is an understatement. It's like my leg wasn't hit by a shotgun." He said in amazement.

"Laser surgery; still in the planning stages though. It won't be released to the rest of the world for a few more years." She replied signaling him for a whisper. "Strictly speaking, Image as Designed isn't supposed to get this equipment until next month."

"Got that shit off the black market. You are definitely a Stilwater Latina."

"Influence is my middle name. Mr. Orejuela already paid for the operation, and as long you don't tell a living soul what happened here, we'll be alright."

Things were changing alright. It was a good thing Lorena wasn't so easily swayed by Steelport's "appeal". Working in an apocalyptic nightmare of Spring Break's past they were both surprised she was getting business no matter how stupid it was going to be. However, Johnny didn't dwell on how people thought in this town. Before leaving, he asked Lorena how she kept herself together during the bash in the first place.

It turned out both she and her roommate took a drive to Philadelphia to catch ball game. Johnny sure knew how to pick the good ones from the shallow ones. Lorena picked up on this trait the moment he stepped into her office. She was seeing a change in him too emotionally. Someone special was in his life, and it kept him grounded instead of being self-destructive on touchy chauffeurs who were eyeing the high school principal's ex-wife at the Prom. By the time he left Image as Designed he was getting a hankering to get his first step in taking over Stilwater on the road. Heading back to his car, the small potatoes came rolling in when a familiar face got his attention.

"You drank all my whiskey!" The guy shouted.

"You were sharing the wealth, pal. I was just thirsty." Johnny replied walking.

"How'd you know there wouldn't be poison in it? You just took it without hesitation and threw it at some asshole with no patience."

"You got something to say to me, shithead? I got a prior engagement to uh…engage in."

"Killing all ten of us won't be easy." He replied pulling out his Mac-10 and firing at the Hummer.

Johnny took cover behind his car for a few seconds before springing into combat. He took out an army knife and gave a quick peak while the stranger was firing away. As soon as he was reloading, Johnny ran up to him, snatched the Mac-10 from his hand and stabbed him in the shin. Right then, he wanted to give his newly restored leg a test run. A straight thrust of the knee to the shooter's chest was more than confirmation he wasn't a cripple anymore. Followed by breaking the guy's right arm and tossed him against the Hummer, Johnny was feeling the new leg kicking in as well as a good warm up. Soon after, the shooter was begging for his life to be spared.

"Wait, wait!" He shouted pulling out a USB device from his pocket. "I got something for you."

"What the fuck am I gonna do with this?"

"It's from Ultor. I only have a piece of their behind the scenes operations. You kill the other nine dealers, you get the full story."

"Ok." He said putting the knife to his throat. "Tell me who you are so I scratch you off the list."

"Dennis Vivaldi: a drug dealer for an influential set of people."

"They're the Colombians right?" He asked.

"I wouldn't even work for the Mexican Cartel. New competition is brewing; pretty soon the Colombians won't be sitting on top dollar anymore. If you're going to be working with Manuel, I'd quit now." He concluded before getting shot in the head.

Being a "shoot first and break some bones later" kind of Saint, he didn't think Dennis had any more valuable information. Luckily the neighborhood they were in was quiet; no police sirens or bystanders playing the snitch card. He put the USB in his vest pocket and drove on over to his next target. Activating the GPS on his phone, Douglas Vorty was said to be located at a Rim Jobs reopening shop for his marijuana business. Each road his Hummer drove on felt bumpy and shaky at the same time.

Spring break did a number on many streets and pedestrians walking about. Not to mention the roadblocks that were unattended for, courtesy of Steelport's finest. By the time he reached his next man, his discretion became foreign. Vorty looked to be a man of mid-twenties wearing homeless clothes and a beard that would make Tom Hanks' Castaway character jealous. Vorty looked stunned from Johnny's point of view seeing the Hummer, but for the sake of keeping a business whole he kept his cool.

Johnny parked on the side of the street and looked at his inventory. He was feeling creative; Steelport still had 90 degree weather and with the air conditioner on blast he wasn't feeling the sweat. He took a bottle of water and splashed some drops on his face as he got out of the car, "acting" like he was going to keel over. Vorty was surrounded by shit faced college kids; the kind who went to school for the parties and not much else. A group of twelve willing individuals were waiting on line for a fix when Johnny decided to cut on through.

One by one, each tainted soul was knocked out discreetly. The alarms around Vorty's psyche went off when he noticed two to four of his regular customers were on the ground. That was when he saw a police car pull up and panicked right away. In Johnny's experience, he would never understand why junkies run from the 5-0, but such logic didn't matter when he took on the next target his own way. Jumping inside his beat up red Toyota, Vorty took off with the car exhaust filling up a quarter of the city block. Johnny revved up his engine and began his pursuit.

About two miles driving around shortcuts and nearly clipping off ten limping civilians trying to get home, Vorty was really starting to panic. Johnny didn't want the cops tailing his Hummer so he parked inside an alleyway and found someone riding a nice ocean blue Ducati. He ran up to the bike and knocked him out of the way as his pursuit continued with a twelve gauge in his hand. He saw the irony in that weapon, then he put that irony to work when he caught up to the Toyota.

"Hey man, what's the rush?" Johnny asked as he pulled to the front tire and shot it off.

It was not a hard concept to grasp, but then again dealers weren't always open-minded on the harsh realities around them. Johnny was getting shot at by a .92 Beretta Vorty had in his possession; it didn't help much though. He shot off a back tire followed by glass shattering on the back of Vorty's window. Suddenly, the Toyota spun out of control and did a backflip onto a crossroads where for some strange reason people were driving golf carts in. This city was getting weirder and weirder Johnny thought.

He started a traffic jam when he stopped in the middle of the street with weapon loaded. Vorty crawled out of the wreckage when suddenly his head got blown in half by Johnny. The impact of the shot sent the immediate vicinity running for their lives; Johnny didn't have a lot of time before the cops arrived. Luckily, he found the second USB device in Vorty's pants pocket. He jumped back on the Ducati and rode back before the confusion wore off on the cops.

The heat was still on. Getting back to the Hummer was starting to become difficult with cop cars sobering up and Paramedics running towards two crime scenes. Johnny checked his phone for a Drew Freemont: Jamaican descent around late thirties and does drive thru deals in a Zimos car with yellow neon lights under. When he checked the locations on where Drew did his deals in, it was usually around some rinky dink sports bar called the Broken Shaleighleigh. As soon as he got there, he couldn't believe the smell of cheap beer and loose lipped hobos with nothing between the ears lugging around. However, for the most part nobody in the bar pulled a gun on Johnny so that was a good sign. Ordering some chicken wings and a coke, he was greeted by a familiar, yet friendly face in the muling business.

"Never thought I pegged you for the sugar rush, Johnny."

"Hey Mel, what's up?" Johnny said shaking his hand.

"Ah you know; the usual state trotting and what-not. Your boy Bradshaw gave the specifics for me to break your Saints out next week at the prison." He said ordering a Coors Light.

"I thought discreet was your middle name."

"Half these people are deaf. One night I was delivering, I coulda swore I heard an orgy was going on behind this bar counter. Nobody paid it any mind. But I gotta say thanks for taking out my competition so far. The Sons of Samedi sure know how to turn junkies against dangerous people overseas."

"You heard huh? If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer to keep my presence to a minimal."

"Hah, I thought "minimal" wasn't your middle name. Don't worry, I won't stay long. I just have to investigate something."

"Well man, I won't keep you." Johnny said as Mel got up and walked out of the bar.

The bartender bent down for a second to grab something when Johnny decided to make a distraction. He whispered to a guy wearing a business suit next to him that a group of frat boys were talking trash about his hair that looked to be something out of the Grudge movie. While the bartender was dealing with a psychotic break, Johnny jumped over the counter and made his way outback to look for Freemont when Freemont himself went commando on him. Johnny was thrown against a steel fence and for a split second he thought he'd seen Drew about to make a new home with his left fist. Johnny reacted by twisting the left arm of a lucky shot and made sure that mistake wasn't made twice.

That was…until Drew head butted him and threw his body out into the middle of the street like some steroid maniac. Johnny flipped out of the way of a moving car when both locked hands and were fighting on the side of the street. Drew's eye bulged out and somehow took the army knife Johnny had. Two missed stabs later, Johnny kicked him out of the way and Drew got in a defensive stance.

"I don't have time for this shit." Johnny said taking out a grenade.

Freemont's USB fell out during the fighting and was sitting in the alley behind him. One thing got shoved into another's mouth while the other one got some distance before the sidewalk was painted something red and squishy. Johnny was getting suspicious about his targets as well as the USBs they were carrying. What were they trying to hide, and why act self-destructive? At first, he didn't care as long as he got the job done, but after what Dennis said about Ultor, it was starting to become clear. They were no longer a clothing line so what was the fuss behind the dealers and their connection to Sons of Samedi he asked himself. As he drove around, he gave Manuel a call.

"_How are things progressing, my friend?" _

"What do you know about the Sons of Samedi?"

"_According to my sources, the General and his associate have been neck and neck with the Colombians for the past eighteen years. The Carnales were able to keep them at a safe distance, obviously they can't guarantee safety anymore. Many of their "loyal" dealers were tasked in coming to Steelport and started working with the General's right hand. He is quite the colorful character in voodoo circles."_

"Voodoo, things just got a lot interesting. Maybe Saints Row should welcome them into Stilwater. I wouldn't mind wiping another gang off the roster."

"_For your city's stability and our continued business relationship, I would prefer if the Samedi stay in this city."_

"So about these dealers; they're out of their fucking mind! One was suicidal, another wasn't much of a fighter, and the one I just blew up seemed psycho, hopped up or some shit."

"_If anything, your last kill Drew Freemont was overdosing on Loa dust and wanted to take his rage out for a spin. All I know is that Ultor and the Samedi are trying to overthrow my colleagues somehow."_

"For revenge maybe; Angelo Lopez went ape shit on Playa and Dex when his brother got killed."

_"Angelo never did have a clear head on his shoulders._ _Only those devices will tell. They contain surveillance footage that might have the answer. Continue your work, Mr. Gat."_

Johnny wanted a real challenge, to make his trip worthwhile because for the most part he felt he wasn't getting his hands dirty, let alone his vest not having any blood on it. Looking through his shit list, he found a pile driver looking individual named Scotland Layton. As clichéd as it sounded, he was the ex-football player for the Stilwater Sharks selling illegal growth supplements and steroids. Other things on his profile suggested he was fed up being caught between two evils and took refuge at an abandoned steel mill. Johnny couldn't wait to meet the buffed up jock in person and claim his prize.

The increase in police was getting out of hand when sirens were zooming by him, nearly leaving scratches on the Hummer. When he finally reached the Abercrombie and Dale steel mill, it felt like a creepy ghost town. Concern wasn't Johnny's strong suit unless it reflected on the well-being of the Saints, but for Steelport the lack of a city population was concerning. There were only a few pockets of people roaming a few neighborhoods while the spring breakers were either in jail or went underground to sober up. He was packing two sawed off shotguns, a special machete made from Nicaragua, and three incendiary grenades for a barbecue finish.

As he entered the Mill, it was cold beyond belief. It felt more like a meat locker of sorts; he equipped both shotguns as he moved along the empty establishment. Three floors of empty crates and roof hooks, making creaking sounds as other sounds of metal banging as his feet moved up the stairs. Eventually he found the office of whoever ran the mill; inside it was pitch black with something oozing out the office door. He readied himself when he opened up, and suddenly a blinding light hurt his eyes for a quick second, soon seeing the harsh end of one of his other targets, Mickey Schmidt.

"Ho-lee fuck; steroids can't do this." Johnny said before another surprise arose.

Johnny got down from the sound of something shot from a cannon. When he looked up a thick harpoon made Mickey's face virtually unrecognizable. He pressed his back against the office's foundation and took a peek on the lower levels. Almost getting his head punctured, another harpoon hit the roof of the office. He didn't have time to wait to get killed so he put his guns away and took out an incendiary grenade, hoofed it on the causeway to get a good angle on Layton. As soon as his face was shown he pulled the pin and threw it directly towards him. Johnny didn't realize how much of a good shot Scott was until he reacted by sending a third harpoon and making it blaze fire soon after. Maybe he did find his challenge after all.

"You're trespassing on my property, purple man." Scott called out to him.

"Scotty, you bulked up last time I saw you. When was it; the playoffs of '98? You were our star quarterback."

"Things change, Johnny. Come on down so I can converse with you properly." He replied before making a counter attack.

Scott and Johnny didn't know each other well from High School. His experience in football led to half the team sending death threats his way, but for Scott he didn't care. Now he had a new axe to grind with a Saint with a legend built into the life of Stilwater. He countered an attack quickly with a knife as metal clashed with the sleek sharpness of Johnny's machete. Both got in defensive poses.

"Wow, my senses are intact. Take that, Dane Vogel."

"What does that rich prick got to do with this?" Johnny asked as Scott attacked him.

"I got low. Like many football stars had, and Vogel was one of my fans for some reason. He gave me a job." He said attempting to slice Johnny's torso and getting kicked from behind soon after. "He gave me a goal."

"You're not sellin' me on what Ultor and the Samedi are doing. I guess Mickey Schmidt didn't get a warning shot from you when he got here." Johnny said as he was extending the moment for Scott to talk.

"It's a scavenger hunt Vogel sent the top suppliers on. Each of us has a USB device containing sensitive info on his plans for a new Stilwater. If it goes through, no street gang will be left standing. As for Mickey, he heard what happened to Vivaldi and the others and couldn't hack it."

Scott came at him from his right. With Johnny elbowing the tip of his head, dodging a few punches but suffered a knee to his own face, he had a feeling the warm-up was over. It was funny saying he wanted a challenge after the last three dealers. Come to think of it, he thought after his face was vibrating pain Johnny hit the side of his forehead to keep it together. Scott came at him again only this time he grabbed Johnny's neck and ran towards one dark corner of the Mill until his arm gave out of all feeling.

Johnny's machete chopped off his arm, but that didn't stop him to make sure he was nothing but purple dog shit under his boot. Scott then landed some jump kicks to put his lower body into high gear. Johnny suddenly pulled out one of his sawed offs when he reacted by grabbing his shooting arm; both struggled to keep the loud end of the weapon pointed at the right target. Johnny using his newly restored leg managed to make a bone cracking dent on Scott's left shin, and he could tell the amount of restraint he was putting himself to not falter away from his goal. Before he knew it, the machete went through his left rib cage.

Just when he was about to take another stab at the football player turned traitor to the state, Johnny was sent flying five feet away from the harsh burst of his own shotgun. The shot echoed the entire Mill, leaving an anticipated silence as to whether or not he killed one of the most notorious Saints in all of Stilwater. Then his common sense kicked in when he went to go check for a pulse. Johnny wasn't moving while Scott was looking for the other USBs that were taken.

"I have to say." Scott said looking at Johnny's armor vest. "You're a lot smarter than most street kids. This shotgun packed one hell of a punch. Where the hell's the other one?"

Contemplating went out the window four seconds in. Suddenly, Scott was the one with nothing between the ears along with the rest of the spring breakers in Steelport. Johnny sat up and almost hit his head on the concrete floor due to the vibrations he was feeling from a shotgun blast. He slowly sat up and crawled over to nearly headless Scott to look for both his USB device as well as Mickey's. With five steps closer to Ultor's plans, he walked out of the Mill to find himself in a standstill with a small army of green and black flag wearing gang members, sporting AK-47s and Pythons pointing directly at his chest.

One of the Samedi members demanded Johnny to drop the harpoon gun he got from Scott and turn around. He did just that…the complete opposite as it turned out. He had his back turned to them, and with only a short burst of adrenaline pumping the soles beneath his feet, he swiftly turned around and shot a harpoon into the heart of one of the Samedi and took cover behind some gas tanks. Then he saw his Hummer parked just the way he left it; he hauled his ass back to it with bullets flying in all open directions of his body movements. He was all of a sudden in the mood for bumper cars.

He turned the front end of his vehicle with RPG in hand, pressing on the gas pedal ready for some carnage. Speeding his way for some green cars to go flying, he fired a rocket and took out a good three cars before he was making impactful run-ins with the others. The Samedi kept making bullet holes and dents and the Hummer was still going strong. Johnny was having the time of his life crushing any members in his path and driving their transportation into the ocean. That was until he met his match when a limousine had tribal designs with a big skull on the back cut off his escape route.

"Nice limo." Johnny whistled. "Too bad Eesh and I can't have it."

The remaining Samedi kept shooting off the back of the Hummer, forcing Johnny to floor it towards the limo. After firing off another rocket, the only impact it did was dent up the exterior. Both vehicles were about to collide when Johnny took two rifles and jumped out at the last second. The limo somehow powered on through while sending the Hummer flying into the ocean; Johnny got pissed as he was shooting off a few rounds at what was left of the new gang. Cops and military came out of the blue to liberate the situation. Johnny took cover behind a shipping crate but as soon as he turned around a tall, dark, and menacing figure wearing a black suit and Jamaican beanie grabbed Johnny's shoulder.

He punched the stranger in the face and was about add a creepy Loa expert to his kill list. Suddenly, his sense of smell and sight became clouded by an unfamiliar drug that made him drowsy, and was bearing weight on his shoulders as he fell to the ground with little time to retaliate.

"_Grab the USB devices this animal is holding. Then take him to the screaming vessel."_ Mr. Sunshine said before Johnny passed out.

For a gang banger who remembers every bullet he has shot and taken, every broken spleen and rib cage he has obliged to any ass hole getting in his way, and of course reminiscing the booty calls from Aisha, while he was telling his tale of exploration and cutting off dealers from the face of the Earth he couldn't for the life of him remember what happened in between his dozing off, and what occurred afterwards. According to Lovecraft's profile based on what Manuel told him, he was one of the main believers of the Loa dust, like if he bathed in its hallucinogenic qualities, every spec crept its way into his pores he would feel invincible. Johnny thought Loa was just cocaine effect times 8,000 or something. It's what drove Tony Montana to make his last stand at his Miami mansion against Sosa's thugs until his back bit the bullet and finally fell to his death. Mr. Sunshine gave Lovecraft a fate worse than death.

What was it? Shaundi and Johnny took five from role playing the events that happened in Steelport while he tried his damnedest to recall any encounters with Lovecraft. Shaundi was lying on the ground sweaty and out of breath as if she was about to cough up a lung.

"Girl, you really need to veer away from that bong of yours." Natasha said standing over Shaundi.

"Why you say that?"

"Lifting five pound weights in jail isn't going to cut it. You need water and a hot personal trainer." She replied helping her up.

"It's all good, Nat. I'm as healthy as a rooster annoying the shit out of me when he wakes me up from a hangover. I'll be fine." She replied feeling woozy. "I just need some water."

"I can recommend somebody." Veteran Child suggested. "I know a few trainers from the local Y downtown. I'm…pretty sure you met them by now, Shaun."

"Jesus, you weren't kidding when you said you slept with half of Stilwater." Nat whispered to her.

As Shaundi and her new "boyfriend" discussed what drugs to ease up on and go hard in parties, Tommy and Lacey went up to Johnny to see if he had any thoughts refreshing Lovecraft.

"So you two actually stayed for my long winded tale in Steelport?"

"I never pegged you as a storyteller. If what you did got the Saints control of Stilwater, then those USB devices had something to do with it." Tommy said.

"Maybe this Lovecraft isn't your main concern, Johnny. What about Pyros or the DeNardo twins?" Lacey asked him.

"The guys seem really fucking eager to leave, don't they?"

"Ah, your boring half arrives." Lacey said looking at a purple Camaro rolling in.

If his frustration remembering what he did in the screaming vessel was bad, Dex came in being the buzz kill he always was to Johnny's fun. Much to his own surprise, Dex made it a point to the rest of the Saints to go home and get some rest. Johnny called out to him claimed the purple convicts were his responsibility and wasn't done bringing them up to speed on his actions in Steelport. Dex was the first to be told when he got back a day or so later with all ten USBs with crucial info given to Manuel to decipher. All he said to Johnny was that he wasn't human, or just a demented freak who really knows how to use a machete and a grenade launcher when negotiating would've spared the bloodshed.

Sometimes Johnny forgets both he _and_ Dex were in charge of the Row, let alone Troy and Aisha. When the others left, Ty and Scott stayed behind and let him know they were going to head back to their hood to make sure everything was copacetic. All that was left was his best pal with a best gal to match, Shaundi, Nat, and the non-Jamaican DJ who became hot under the collar the more he looked at Johnny.

"Are you okay?" Shaundi asked him. "You look pale all of a sudden."

"Yeah…hey I just remembered. I'm meeting a few construction workers tomorrow. You know the new music store I'm opening up?"

"C'mon, the night is still young." She smiled, putting her hands around his waist. "You're opening a new business. We should celebrate."

"Not tonight, Shaundi." He said getting hostile and pushing her away. "I got a business to build and you…you wouldn't understand."

At that moment, Veteran Child had no idea what came over him pushing her away. He looked at her with a bit of sorrow in his eyes before running off without so much as a goodnight. Shaundi had her head down. Nat went over to console and assured her that maybe he was just cranky or constipated. They said goodbye to Johnny and the others as well before going back to Lacey's place. Suddenly, a thought finally slapped Johnny in the back of his head.

"You know how Philosophers with names you can't pronounce have these sayings about every man having an inner beast waiting to break free?"

"Put a sledgehammer in your hand, and the "human" in you is gone." Tommy chuckled.

"I'm fucking serious, TK. It's all coming back…the hole in the vessel, the blood on my hands; the drug mule."

"Mel Perry broke you out?" Lacey asked him. "He's like Man of Steel sometimes."

The only similarity between Mel and Superman was their ability to have tact when it came to arriving at the right time. By the time he came to Johnny's rescue at sea, it was already night time. Johnny woke up with his wrists cut up from chains and the body he assumed was Lovecraft laying limp on the ground. Aramaic symbols seemed to be written in the same blood. What the fuck were they on to cause such a sickening sight he thought?

Or more importantly, why couldn't he remember what he did? He was still breathing, if not exactly clean air; smoke was coming around the ships' outter coverings. Johnny got up with his new leg supporting him still as he went over to Lovecraft and saw the free Image as Designed special done to his face. He checked his pockets to find a USB device. That was when Mel came running through the door behind Lovecraft and urged Johnny to go with him. He was still half delirious but that didn't stop him clenching his fists and both jumped out of the hole and onto a speed boat he had running below. By the time the shipping vessel exploded, they were a safe distance away, heading for Johnny's next target.

"_Akuji…Aisha…fucking Dex…" _Johnny spoke deliriously.

"Lovecraft did a number on ya. At least he's dead finally."

"Where…where am I?"

"Gat, it's me. Thought I almost lost you there. The Samedi aren't playing around. Given your droopy eyes, you must've been hit with concentrated Loa dust; it releases your innermost fears. He won't hurt you ever again, Shaundi." He whispered to himself.

"What does she have to do with any of this?"

"Never mind; right now we got to lay low. The DeNardo twins are probably in stolen helicopters looking for us. These dealers were chosen by the General. There's been a dispute with Ultor over some grand transition for Stilwater."

"No shit…? Not while I'm still breathing." Johnny struggled to sit up. "I don't know how you found me, but you…"

A large burst of a wave clashed against the boat, nearly toppling them over. Mel got back in control and looked behind him to find two choppers conveniently showing up in the nick of time shooting rockets at them. Johnny asked him if he had a weapon to take them down. Mel was only being sarcastic about the "laying low" part. He brought out a nifty treat Mel salvaged from Johnny's Hummer: an MG460 automatic grenade launcher sitting comfortably at the back of the boat.

It wasn't big enough Johnny thought, but anything explosive he was able to take. The DeNardo twins were Reginald and Lewis. Their profile spoke of how they deliver product overseas and bypassing security checkpoints in foreign hot spots. They came a long way from being entertainment at Safeword. However, apart from flying under the radar they were not the confrontational types. Like Mel, they don't stay in one place; just drop off the delivery, collect payment and leave before their competition had the chance to scratch their noses.

One grenade launched after another, Johnny was getting a feeling of déjà vu with the tribal limousine he dealt with before passing out. It was like both vehicles were built to withstand rocket blasts. He was getting agitated until Mel brought up about stealing a fast car once they got on land. The twins, namely Scotsman Reginald had a tendency to fly a little too low for the drop in/fly out deliveries. The only part of the helicopter not made invulnerable were the chopper wings. Bring them down he said, they would be able to find Stevie Pyros no problem.

"My source told me that ass hole is at a place called Magarac Island." Johnny told Mel.

"That's his usual hang out spot. Dealers aren't known for their subtlety, especially Pyros."

"So you know anything about a Jeffrey Bellowaski? I was told to find ten USB devices and haven't found him yet." He asked firing another grenade at one of the helicopters.

"He's good at disguising himself. Too bad he has slippery fingers from eating buttery bagels before his deals." Mel said giving him the USB. "He was posing as a Samedi soldier when they ambushed you outside the abandoned Steel Mill. He dropped it before he got shot."

"You were stalking me this whole time?!"

"I was on my way out of the city when I heard the gunfire. Steelport's still recovering from Spring break. Listen, once we get on land we'll grab a car and take these ammo caches with us. Are you up for this, Gat?"

"I'm offended you'd even ask." Johnny smirked.

The DeNardo twins were getting restless of not making their shots count in taking out the drug mule and the Saint. Once they reached a docking point, both Mel and Johnny hauled ass out of the boat and into the city streets for a car. Running frantically around, Mel found a red truck called the Hammer. Lewis and Reginald were closing in on them and didn't have time to look for a fast car. They got inside and Mel started working quickly in hot wiring the engine.

Johnny on the other hand got out his grenade launcher, unloading shells until he felt the skin on his hands burning off. Suddenly, one was taken down and landed about a mile and a half away from where they were. Once Mel had the engine running, they skirted out of the street and towards the first chopper wreckage. Everyone around the corners panicked and ran like headless chickens while Peacemaker police cruisers came rolling into the carnage bonfire. Johnny jumped out and went to go get the USB before it burnt into a crisp.

Reginald wasted no time cutting off their escape window when he kept Steelport's finest busy until Johnny found a circular object in Lewis's coat pocket. Six seconds of adrenaline running through Johnny's mind and hands when he decided to cut loose before a massive explosion sent his back nearly ablaze towards a concrete wall. It threw Reginald's chopper off guard from the rising fire that took out a quarter of the police force and Paramedics trying to break through. The explosion also left Mel upside down, half shell shocked at what was going on. He saw Gat in the distance and crawled to see if he was still alive. In his mind, Johnny would be having the time of his life if his ears weren't ringing so much.

"Gat…c'mon get up." Mel said helping him on his feet.

"Where the fuck's the other twin?" Johnny asked looking around.

"Up there." He replied pointing at the sky. "We'll have to find a roof and take him out from there. How much ammo you got?"

Not a moment too soon, the other DeNardo made his explosive end when his chopper got blown out of the sky and crashing onto the street, killing numerous bystanders in the process. There was a nest Mel kept while doing deliveries around the city. They got out of the area in the confusion and made their way down a sewer entrance which led to what Mel believed was the first underground set for murder, a kitty scientist, and old present boxes that looked like they belonged in Wonderland. Johnny didn't know what he was talking about, but he wanted to get low and get his bearings before going after Pyros.

The only problem was at the time, he was shy of two USB devices and two steps behind on what Ultor had planned for Stilwater. He was kicking himself repeatedly once they found shelter. From Mel's eyes, he looked to have taken the two chopper explosions a bit personally.

"Dude, I know you're the one who likes to cause explosions, but it's not the end of the world here. We're still whole." Mel said as Johnny picked up a radio and smashed it.

"I'm glad you're so fucking nonchalant about this!"

"It's not my fight. I only aid those who need it. You want to die next time; fine with me." Mel replied drinking a beer.

"I didn't ask you to help me. I had shit under control."

"Like the way you handled Lovecraft on that boat? Don't get me wrong Gat, I'm grateful. But what you did wasn't out of pleasure for carnage was it?"

"What are you talking about?" Gat asked sitting down.

"When I found you, you were spitting out specific words like "Aisha, Akuji, and Playa." I found out what happened on Alderman Hughes' boat. I don't mean to pry, but was this "playa" guy on there too?"

Johnny took a second to process two explosions that nearly took his life, and the fact what happened on the screaming vessel wasn't doing much to help his memory. Since Mel didn't like to choose sides in his line of work, Johnny opened his ears to the reason why he supposedly lost it killing Lovecraft. It was a similar rage that plagued his mind a couple months before, to the time when he lost a best friend to a bastard politician.

"Playa was on that Alderman's boat. When Dex told me what happened, I didn't want to hear it. Imagine a second me without a voice to match._ That_ was Playa."

"He helped the Saints take down the Carnales and Vice Kings right?" Mel asked as Johnny nodded. "Shit. Look man, I can't relate to what you're feeling. When you run a mile in my shoes, it's hard to keep any friends close. What does your leader say about all this?"

"Julius split the night after it happened. Troy said he was picked up by the cops; don't know how he knew that for sure, but I said "fuck it". I _love_ me some ass kicking, Mel. Everyone in Stilwater knows that. I blacked out twice since he died. If Aisha was in the middle of that…I got to finish this job. No time to dwell on the past."

"Then I got something to help you find Pyros faster. If there's one obvious trait about him besides his rep, are his patterns. Magarac Island is his base of operations. Another area is a strip club called Technically Legal and then there's the 3 Count Casino."

"Great, I'll go to each location and give a nice final "fuck you" before I leave Steelport." Johnny said as he got up.

"That's just it. A simple "fuck you" isn't going to send the message straight." Mel replied.

Mel had been in the business of drug mulling for over eleven years. Along the way, competition arose from some very unique dealers who got in bed with the wrong clients but somehow can still walk the streets without a care in the world. For the longest time, Mel's only competition was the Lopez brothers from Los Carnales. He didn't want to be on their payroll since the Colombians had very itchy trigger fingers and a reach so far an orangutan would want longer arms. Since Gat's arrival in Steelport, the city had been pushed into overdrive on police units and hung over college kids who can go for a twentieth round.

When it came to Spring Break, the city had no pause button until it shut itself down the next day. It became the perfect opportunity for gang members like Johnny to cause some mayhem, whether it was for a job or simply because he felt like it. Every dealer's death leading up to this point was only going to end on a highly personal endeavor. Mel didn't anticipate for the DeNardo brothers to blow up into a fiery oblivion; only Stevie Pyros would have access for chopper sabotage. He gave Johnny what notes and online research he had when he was studying dealer patterns on his own time.

One article contained a surprising secret. By the time Johnny lowered the notes from his eyes, Mel was already long gone. His skin color flushed from his face, and blood was piping hot in his body. The only weapon he had on him was a machete. By the time he got back up to the surface, he saw the harpoon gun he took from Scott. Johnny tried for Technically Legal first to find Stevie. Anger is a heavy burden to bear; so how does one unplug the pores of the human skin to release the steam? Johnny demonstrated his first act of brutality by punching a bouncer at the front door four times on the nose, and performing a Spartan kick which sent the guy scraping his back a few feet away from the club. Entering the club it was empty; a fortunate thing to do a few more shakedowns to find his shit list target. A stern conversation began between him and a female, forty-three year old southern belle bartender named Felicia.

"You look like you could use a drink, sweetheart." She said cleaning shot glasses.

"I'm looking for Stevie Pyros. Have you seen him?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss client regulars. Now tell me; what's your poison?"

"Just answer the goddamn question!" Johnny said losing his nerve until the owner came a running.

"Hey! Is there a problem here, Felicia?" The owner asked out of concern.

"No problem here, boss. He was just leaving."

Johnny suddenly got tired of the 20 questions game and broke out his machete for some quick answers. The club's oil machines busted out hardware of their own to level the playing field. Johnny made the first move by attacking the owner out of his anger. Felicia shot his chest with her shotgun which hurt a little more since last time. Guess Lovecraft didn't think to remove his Kevlar vest when he was unconscious he thought. With machete still firm in his hand, there was no Pyros in sight.

"Kevlar huh; that's smart." The owner said pointing his M16 at Johnny. Felicia, how many street gangs we know have all their brain cells?"

"If there are gangs like that, I ain't seen 'em in years, boss."

"Put the sword down, Saint; nice and slow."

For ten, awkward seconds the owner demanded Johnny to put his machete down once again, or "sword" from his perspective. Johnny needed a second to get hard first, but from the trashy cesspit that was Technically Legal it was messing with his flow. Just as he was going to pull the trigger, he was one hand short, and not much of a voice to cry for help. Felicia attempted to fire another shell, but as soon the bullets left her shotgun Johnny lifted up the owner's body as a shield. She got scared as she her hands were shaking, holding her weapon. He jumped over the bar counter to have some face time.

"Please, I already lost one daughter to shit heads like you. You want Stevie, just…put down the machete and I'll write it down." She requested as she went to go find a napkin and a pen. "Your reputation in Stilwater spilled its way onto our shores. For a small time gang from 3rd Street, you sure make a lot of noise. Last time Stevie was here, he was conducting airlift deliveries overseas: explosives on one and drugs on the other. He's on Magarac Island under the statue."

"Now was that so hard?" He asked taking the napkin. "Find another job." Johnny said snatching the napkin. "If you send the cops on me, or try to shoot me again, I'll slice your goddamn head off."

When it came to making promises, Johnny had a zero bullshit policy on those. Mel told him Pyros had different locales for making deals, but at that moment he was willing to take a chance in finding him on the most obvious location. He sheathed his machete, had the harpoon gun on his left shoulder with an M16 strapped to his right. He was ready to finish the job once and for all. He checked his GPS for any boat rentals to steal from.

That was when Rodini's boat shack came up and made his way down there. Side streets, intersecting streets, even short cuts were blocked off by Steelport PD as they were conducting an investigation behind the deaths of the other dealers. Johnny didn't care; his head was too far gone to find a sensible route. He drove an Estrada bike through the checkpoints until he reached the ocean. Cops had red flags when this was going on and the man hunt was on.

As they chased him throughout the city, he decided to use his grenade attachment on the rifle when the fireworks started once again out of nowhere. It was like invisible C4 was planted at convenient spots he was going. Whatever the reason, he made it to the boat shack and stole a red and black speed cruiser, setting his sights on the Magarac statue. He looked at his GPS one last time to confirm Pyros was there waiting for him. It may have been a decoy he thought at first, but if there was a nasty surprise waiting to strike once he had reached shore, a sharp weapon was all he needed.

In the distance, Johnny saw an army of Samedi soldiers with RPGs and snipers ready to blow him out of the water. Their impatience showed when five rockets came hurdling towards his boat. He grabbed the M16 and began shooting them out of the sky. One rocket got sneaky and hit the boat's hull, causing him to get thrown backwards into the ocean as the boat exploded on the surface. Johnny pulled himself together and had a covert approach in reaching the island. He was nearly there.

He swam all the way to the back of the statue and stuck his head out for any walking meat sacs on watch. He got on the island and decided to play silent assassin on some unsuspecting Samedi. Snapping a neck here, slicing off another five heads hopped up on Loa as if it was going to give them sharpened hearing. By the time he made it to the western corner of the island, two dozen Samedi strong were armed with Uzis, shotguns and RPGs; just to name a few off the arsenal rack. "It's like my birthday." He said to himself.

He got out the M16 and fired at two Samedi soldiers. Everyone turned around and began firing back. Johnny shot off a grenade to separate his targets. He then threw the rifle on the ground and started slicing off limbs for a gory free-for-all. Then suddenly, one Samedi soldier came out of the bunch with a bomb vest that had the same explosives the DeNardo twins had on themselves. The other soldiers had surprise expressions and made a break for the water. Just when Johnny was about to slice off the bomber's legs, a sound piercing sniper shot took his head clean off, leaving meat chunks all over the place. Dripped with sweat and blood all over his battle scarred body, Johnny had enough of Stevie's inevitable ass kicking.

"That all you got, Pyros?! Come out you fuck!"

"Such anger…" One voice spoke from inside the statue. "Is that you, Johnny fucking Gat?! You Saints have been nothing but trouble in Stilwater. Ultor's still cleaning up the mess you made in taking out the three gangs."

"Stilwater's under our protection now." Johnny said pointing his rifle at Pyros. "You're going to die for what you did."

"Care to be a bit more specific?" Pyros said walking out into the middle of the island, confronting Gat.

A cowboy western draw happened and ended in an instant. Johnny threw the machete at Stevie's left breast plate, and at the same time Johnny got hit with a sticky bomb on his lower abdomen. Impact of the shot sent him three feet away.

"Argh…fuck!" He said trying to pull the blade out. "Nitroglycerin and diamond compound laced with a standard issue C4, all combined into that little gob on your stomach. You tamper with it, it becomes active." He said pulling the machete out and tossing it to the side. "Now that I have thought of your question, it all makes sense. One of your own was on that boat the night Alderman Hughes was murdered." He continued as Johnny was about to attack him head on. "_Don't_ move. We wouldn't want Saints Row missing its bloodthirsty bulldog."

"You're lucky you got this bomb on me. Killing you wouldn't even begin to make me feel better for what happened."

"Ironic isn't it? You street kids in purple think you're so smart, killing off other ass holes for wearing a different color. Stilwater was safe; people were carefree and minded their own business. That was until your "friend" got recruited and went on a killing spree with the likes of you. Who knows? The bomb I used on that boat was an ordinary suitcase disguise. One was used for the main deck, and another for the hull. It was nothing complex, but the client paid an absurd amount of money to kill two birds with one stone." He explained standing up.

"Give me his name." He replied slowly reaching for something on the back of his vest.

"You know what they say Johnny: Vengeance won't make the pain go away. Your friend is gone. You want the truth, start questioning your own crew." He said walking away. "Honor among thugs; what bullshit sentiment conceived that?"

"You're wrong, you raspy bastard. The Row never kills their own unless someone betrays us." He said slowly taking his vest off with Stevie's back turned. "Enjoy hell, motherfucker."

Being smart or resourceful about anything wasn't Johnny's strong suit in the Saints. When it came to getting things done, he did it with a sledgehammer in one hand and excitement to see his enemies become flying chunks of mincemeat. Before heading out to Steelport, Johnny didn't strap his Kevlar vest tight; the bomb was sitting comfortably on it. He screamed as he ran towards Pyros and threw the vest just as he pressed the detonator on his weapon. The vest exploded with diamond shards shredding his skin and killing him outright.

Johnny spat out some blood and went to go see if he was truly dead. He stood over Pyros with machete in hand, and stuck the blood crusted blade into his devious pie hole, already feeling a mission accomplished was almost in order. He went inside the Magarac statue where an art gallery was showed detailing the man behind the statue. A silver suitcase was on the floor and got Johnny to take the Chinese New Year weapon he took from Pyros, and pressed the button to deactivate any explosives he may have had laced inside. He opened it up and had all ten USB devices plus the one Mel gave him safely tucked away in Styrofoam. He took the case and went back outside. Surprisingly, no Samedi swam back to shore to face another round of Gat-ageddon.

"_How's it going my friend?" _Manuel asked on the phone. _"Did you manage to find all ten devices?"_

"Yeah, I got 'em here." Johnny replied in a grim tone.

"_Is everything alright?"_

"I don't know. I guess we'll find out about what Ultor's planning."

"_Call me once you get back to Stilwater. We will bring your lieutenants up to speed."_

"Yeah, no shit." He said looking around the island. "Um, I'm kind of stuck on Magarac Island. Is there some way you can send a helicopter to pick me up?"

"_I will send someone right away. This is a win for us, Mr. Gat; for Saints Row and the future of Stilwater. You should be proud." _Manuel praised him as Johnny hung up.

His time in Steelport came to an end when Johnny was issued a severe warning from the Mayor in the city two days later. If he was to ever come back to Steelport again, he would be executed on sight. At least, that was what Manuel was able to decipher when one of his contacts brought him the news of Johnny's one day stay. The Mayor always did love his constituents a little too much, namely the Technically Legal types. With one problem crossed off the list, there was a question of loyalty within the Row. Johnny planned to sort it out his own way. The question still remained:Who ordered the hit on Playa? Why was he on the same boat as Alderman Hughes; questions that were to be answered soon.

25


End file.
